Sea Lion Shores when i die, you can push me out to sea

a low grumble of unverbalized complaint rumbles in the tundrian's chest as he trudges along sea lion shore. this isn't the way he'd wanted to go but a last second adjustment to his path took him this way nevertheless. besides it was a shortcut ( of sorts ) and following the coast back up towards the taiga was the easiest path. he'd had his fill of complicated trekking and scouting for a bit and there was an impatient insistence to get back to permafrost hollows and check in on the recruits he'd left to care for it and sent it's way. mostly, he just wants to begin the harrowing process of claiming it — to give himself a small and owed break from recruiting. trying to divide his attention between claiming and recruiting made wintersbane wish that he could split himself in two so he could do both at once.

a storm must've just recently passed through, he notes, as he trudges through the sand, wet from rains and side-stepping thick tangles of seaweed that washed ashore during the upheaval. as it is, he strolls right past the living mass buried beneath the tangle of seaweed — not even realizing that he's there and missing the cue that someone's buried beneath the cover of seagrasses.