Coconut Grove a bitter payment for many bloody deeds

It was clear to Rosalyn her usual haunt had been ruined... the fields near the witch's claim were no longer open to her, and she was fair miffed by that.  Who did Drageda think they were, policing an area that didn't even belong to them? Ridiculous.

Riled by the events of the last few weeks; a string of fights, pack changes, deep conversations- Rosalyn had struck south.  It was a direction that felt like home to her, and sometimes just stepping off that way soothed her mood.  It was never in her future to be a homebody; roving was in her blood as much as the ocean.  But having a home like Ironsea to return to was a hell of a nice feeling.

She stopped rigid when she saw a figure on the beach; she was not about to deal with another fuckin scuffle.  So she skirted him, traveling about at a distance that she hoped he would find amenable.