Sea Lion Shores Awakening of the Soul

“It had been ravaged,” Indie continued in a distracted lilt. Her mind found itself back in the petrified woods, snuffling around the muted warmth of the ashes [still somewhat heated from the inferno] frisking the land for any sign of life. There had been none [to her chagrin] and wistfulness consumed her. Death was only an appropriate consequence for those who rightfully deserved it — she was not a cruel or macabre wolf, of course. But this was the wild, and the laws of the wild mandated ruin could befall any individual, no matter how clever, regal or sheltered. Even the poor wolves of this forest, whom she knew had inhabited this place by the distant scents on the untouched fringes of forest. But they were gone and Indie quickly moved on. Indie’s verdant, shining gaze fell back up Cathenna, who pedaled her feet within the melodic waves. “It was such a bleak sight. I’m not sure anything could have made it out alive. Quite sad, no?” 

The femme was not entirely sure where she wanted this conversation to take her, and that was fine by her. Entirely too blasé to change anything at that moment and willing to let conversation bubble organically, Indie bedded down further into her sandy dwelling, finding comfort in the pliable curves of the material. Yes, she loved fire, but the briny ocean was divine. Flames bore intrigue and danger quite strongly [which attracted Indie so], but the heavier load to bear was utter mortality of everything in its wake.  Death was not so certain where the sea was concerned. Water was pliable, useful; fire only destroyed. 

“Are these wolves of Themiscrya Coast ocean-faring folk? You seem to me like a seawolf.”