Blackbeak Bluff as a game i put my hand over the flame

-- first light --

Dawn hovered upon the sedated surfs beyond, a concerto of color painted with eager fingertips over twinkling swells of starlight that fell from the ethereal tapestries of the night.  They danced upon the pliant surface of fluid curves – the sun winking off of their faces as they rose to meet his warm, paternal caress, casting a sheen of reflected hues across the water’s surface.  He had been suspended in his journey to reunite with the ocean – to let her salty kisses burn his lips, and pacify aching, nomadic muscles – coerced into slumber by the sheer, encumbering fatigue of his body.  Though a practiced wanderer (he’d never known a time spent lounging too long in a singular location) he was not immune to the influence of a seamlessly trekked span of pilgrimage.  He had not known rest nor sleep for what seemed an innumerable amount of days, once becoming lost in an insurmountable stretch of territory vacant of nourishment and, what he craved most – water.  It made him restless – he could not know peace without the sound of wind whipping across waves, crashing against a formidable shoreline – a sense of home despite him never knowing such luxury.  He unraveled from his position (curled, as though a unified burst of flame) and he lifted himself partially, forelegs stretching outward so that his toes may unfurl and curl into the hardened, weathered earth.  He rose, satisfied, his full height catching the glare of the sun, his form alighting as though a beacon – an aggravated ember setting the peak ablaze with its intensity.  Metallic gaze settled upon the horizon, a deep inhale of crisp wintry air expelled forcibly: the smoke to the fire of his presence.