Cerulean Cape We wake up with guilt in our bones

After toiling through much snow and suffering many detours, Coast arrived at the sea without much fanfare. He had known for days he was close, smelling salt on the air, but the anticipation that had built over the last few suns faded quietly into silent relief once he finally set eyes on the ocean. His eyes had widened, and his heart swelled—finally!—before his success dissipated into the realization that he was still alone. Without purpose. Strewn into chaos like wasteful confetti. His eager grin morphed into a pout, and he slunk along the cliffs of the cape with thoughts of postponing his trip down to beach.

Something red caught his eye then, and when he focused on it he made out the figure of a burnt-autumn wolf with her gaze lost out to sea. Fleetingly, he thought about pushing her. Not so much thinking in terms of cruelty, but rather just acknowledging the fact that he could; that this was one of his options when considering her back to him and her supposed ignorance to his presence. But that wouldn't solve his loneliness problem, would it.

He made a noise to catch her attention, and wagged his tail slowly when he had it.