Blacktail Deer Plateau I am no upstart demon, scrabbling in the dirt of the soul.

He doesn't know what to do with himself here. The terrain isn't too different from the coast, but it is comprised of more hard edges and tough surfaces, making him miss the soft crunch of sand underfoot. The trees are sighing with an undulating wind but that doesn't compare to the deep sound of the waves, which he pretends he can still hear, at least until some kind of foreign bird flies overhead on its way to some place safer: the beating of the wings catches in his ears too, the sharp sound of it calling out for family. It is hunting for familiarity just as much as he is—and moving quickly away. The boy's nose tilts up as he sniffs the air, trying to keep himself composed, until the sound of motion is gone.

Oh, Ray, his sister says, so softly that he almost doesn't hear it for all the distractions the forest provides him. She presses against him just as softly, like he's the one that's foreign, agitated, barbed and ready to lash out. A part of him is. He wants to charge back to that beach and find their brother Scarab; but Erzulie had tried that, and she was an adult, she was stronger and faster and knew where to look—if she failed, then he was gone. It was a heavy loss that felt worse the more he thought about it. Thankfully Nieve was there to ask, When do you think the sea will stop being angry? But he doesn't know what to say.

He glares at her—not meaning to direct his ire at his darling sister, but unable to keep himself composed as reality throttles him with images of chaos and destruction. He thinks the worst. Never, he corrects her with a grim little frown. I never want to see the water again. It took everything, Nieve. Mom, Scarab, home. but he knew it wasn't the ocean that was at fault, it was the land. The land shook more and more every day, and the sea was just as confused as the rest of them.