Cerulean Cape take me to your waters, lay me on your shore

A wolf approached. Indie pivoted her outstretched neck to take in the sight and smells of the oncoming stranger. The bouquet which drifted lazily upon the winter winds was brackish, as if the seawolf lived belonged on the coast. Another coastal fellow with whom I can trade stories and learn the secrets of the sea? she wondered. A pack dweller, too. So many of the wolves she met in these wilds had been loners, these classical amazonian princesses and weakling brutes. Traveling all alone, as she was doing. Indie had no doubts that these women would all find each other and find solace in their likeness — the dark tempest entertained thoughts of joining them and hoped the blue waters, so pleasantly spread in front of her like a million lakes, would provide her some insight.

The woman drew nearer and she too moved closer to receive the stranger, Indie’s trot lively and loose from her previous jaunt. Indie drew herself up and composed herself as exhausted huffs gave way to an intriguing simper. Who was she? Did she have an interesting story too?

“Hail, stranger.”