Totoka River Falstaff sings a sorrowful refrain

wc: 444
@Lucas 

Mile after mile ,
On the chick-chick chick-chick sound of the matches 
On the memory of her smile.

I kept them dry 
And as long as there were five, I'd be fine...
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When Thresher woke up, it was later in the afternoon than she’d expected, and she was quite bewildered. What time was it, and where was she? She looked out along the shore where the waves had washed up all kinds of damp driftwood and sea kelp, had pushed rocks aside and flung things all over the place. She didn’t recognize the area...Or know which was she was meant to go. With the flotsam everywhere, it looked like a warzone, and it was all so unfamiliar. Vaguely, though, she felt at home alongside the ocean, but where exactly she was meant to be, she wasn’t sure. It was as tough she’d begun moving along some secret path, one that no one knew- not even her.

Her head ached, as did her side and her fur was still quite sticky with salt. She stood up shakily, testing out her legs but they were all in good condition. Not far away she could see where a river led down to the beach, forming a sort of estuary and she licked her salty lips; her mouth was parched and she was thirsty. She must have swallowed a great deal of sea water at some point, but the recollection of her harrowing experience had yet to return to her. Her thirst was much more important than putting together the clues...The salty water in her pelt, the strong taste of salt in her mouth, the aching of her ribs and head, where the blood had dried along the side of her face...None of that mattered, she was just thirsty.

She moved up the river past where it would be brine or brackish, to where the water was cooler and clear, fresh and free of salt. She roved into the water to wash away the thin layer of salt that made her skin itch, even though it was cold. She didn’t bother to leave the water until she’d had something to drink, though, and when she did, she shook her pelt- but the violent motion in conjunction with the massive amount of water she’d practically just inhaled made her stagger and vomit. She’d drank water too quickly, and now expelled it with great gusto, and staggered sideways ashamedly, licking her lips and grimacing. This wasn’t nice at all...And she was still very thirsty.

Rather than pull the same mistake again, she drank a little bit of water and tried to avoid drinking too much, too fast, before she pulled back from the river’s edge and began to groom herself, trying to get as much of the excess water off herself before she caught a chill. 

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And as long as there were four matches in a jar...