Sequoia Coast Need some air

With her inexperience, it was no wonder that Ptarmigan had fallen. It was bound to happen, no matter how graceful the Endore female tried to be. She had ranged over packed loam, red clay, and the cracked sand along a desert's fringe, but never had she travelled on loose sand such as this. She found that already it burrowed into her coat, agitating the skin underneath.

She glanced up at the nameless Stavanger Bay bitch, who had come nearer with worry etched on her face. “I'm fine,” Ptarmigan huffed as she hoisted herself up. She felt her foot beginning to slide away again, and spread her toes to prevent it from happening. “Ugh, how can anyone get used to this stuff?” she sighed rhetorically, figuring that Thistle Cloud wouldn't have the answer to it anyway.