Iktome Plains an ode to silence

After days of a northern trek, the hinterlands gave way to the expanse of the coast. Sea salt had grown on the air steadily, though the inflow of cooler winds had only helped to pull it through the last of weathered trees. The openness had greeted Dirge bleakly; it had snowed in the morning and now the afternoon was tainted with persistant curtains of grey but were notably warmer. The plains had been easy enough to navigate, the breadth of such terrain put behind him as the sun had crested past noon. He could see the ocean from here, the whitecaps breaking over the littered pieces of the bay ahead.

But the pathway there had become much more difficult to manage. He hadn't noticed at first, intent on making enough headway to satisfy himself. There hadn't been a fair exploration of what lied along such a picturesque location when he had his siblings in tow and now he desired it. Sand was becoming a bit of annoyance, not at all like the packed earth and grit of his native home... and the chill that now came with the whip worthy winds began their subtle dissuation from the idea.

The water was probably cold anyway, he had reasoned.

So it was along a place where the ground buckled and hardened that he ventured, a place where the scrub and brush of the plain still showed resolve against the eroding shore. It was a natural walkway no doubt used by many, even if Dirge didn't give pause to entertain such things. He opted to go parallel with the shore, eyes intent to seek out a better path so that he could eventually make the long strides he had hoped for.