Cerulean Cape I can’t tell you anything

indra too cursed the monotony of the ocean -- there was nothing here for her besides sand and salt and wind. she missed the firmness of the grass; sand had a way of weaseling out from under you and encumbering your stride. she missed the fresh waters, how clean and crisp they felt on the tongue -- while the ocean was laced bitterly with salt.

and mostly she missed cover: she felt so vulnerable here on the beach, where one could see wolves from miles away -- as long as the earth did not curve from your vision. one such wolf was walking down the beach like her, and indra fixed him with a scowling gaze as he moved.

for a while it seemed he was not getting much closer. maybe it was a trick of the sand, the curve of the beach, or the wind -- but then, as he gradually appeared more and more distinct, indra realized he knew that shade.

her first instinct was her mind was playing tricks -- what was that asshole doing out here? her lips firmed and she felt her tail (a nubbin, really) flag -- if he was here to demand laurel back, they would have harsh words. he had never been interested in laurel, but now that laurel was gone, he was going to come marching right back into their life? hell no.

they had walked through hellfire and worse to get out of bearclaw, to leave the hollow -- indra was not going to see their incomplete life shoveled back to where it was like they were two miserable pegs in an equally miserable square hole. bracing herself against the wind, indra cut towards xan -- her expression grim as she assumed the worse in him.