Cerulean Cape you'll love her til it all goes dark; you'll love her even after that

The crow had followed Piper for many miles before he had noticed her attempts to lose his presence. He had not been discouraged by this, of course. His promise to @Indra had been that he would have kept an eye on the young girl while she searched for her brother. Still, he had not prepared himself for the extent of what his journey would grant him. He had not known just how good the youthful wildfire had gotten at getting her way. Late in the night, when he had believed her to be resting, she had woken early and ventured out beyond his line of sight. The morning after had brought a heavy rain, followed by the trickling of snow in brilliant flurries of endless white. And he had lost her.

Tadec had been unable to return to the fiery woman after having failed to follow Piper. He did not believe that he had the strength to tell Indra that he had made a mistake and he was to blame for whatever would happen to her niece. Instead, he had attempted to scout ahead and find her – surely, she could not have wandered far in the time he had been resting. As most things were, the young Redleaf girl had indeed ventured out beyond his reach. The wiry moonlighter had been left to search nearby territories until his limbs were quaking and he lacked all the strength to move forward.

Time had worn heavy on him. Without the knowledge that Piper was safe, his searches had grown into frantic pleas with the spirits above to return the girl to him. Little did he know that fate had a peculiar means of working. When he had passed upon a rolling river, the crow had believed that he was sound enough to cross. The water had latched tightly to his weary legs and whisked his footing from underneath him. In it, he was carried from the rocky shores of where he had attempted to cross... until his thin frame had crashed into the sea. It was there that the dark coyote raced over his head and called to him. He was begging Tadec to return home.

But the spindly creature did not heed this call. Instead, he was washed ashore on a distant beach where his weak frame was left to be found by some innocent passerby. The great sleep had dug its claws deep into his mind. Tadec did not stir, not even when the waters had pushed him against the soft sands of the shore. His copper-tinged cloak was bedraggled and soaked to his lean frame. His eyes were closed tightly on the world outside of his sun-soaked dreams of summer. In such cruel weather, he did not have very much time there. The cold gnawed at his frame like a wild hound, and it waited until his breathing would grow softer.

Above, the callous cry of seagulls sounded like sirens.