Blackbeak Bluff Whispers From Below

Brou came dancing onto the lands, frisking to and fro among the equally dancy winter-bleached grassheads. She strode forward, then sideways, then spun about, slapping her white-tipped "lucky paw" down with confident eagerness before letting it lead her in another direction at an angle to the first. She skirted the increasing numbers of upjutted jagged boulders littering the turf, and then charged forward as an alarmed seabird spooked up from its hiding place in the clifftop meadow. It squawked indignantly as it frantically beat its wings and lifted off into the lowering sun. Brou chased after it for a short ways, not too seriously, and squinted off after it with a grin until the gentle wash of the waves nearby caught her attention instead. She sped off towards the beckoning ocean, pausing only to pounce at a wayward white-and-gray feather until the ragged rocky edge of the earth stopped her short.

Brou's paws slid skidmarks and raised a few puffs of dust as she moderated her pace, trotting eagerly up to the edge of the world and peering over the side. The salty waters whooshed and waved alluringly, leaving her eyes sparkling attentively, her nose twitching intently, and her big black ears swiveling to focus on them (and ignoring the scolding birds gathered in their nests on the nearby cliffsides). Far below and off to the right there was a final spit of sandier beach, and immediately Brouhaha began to plot how best to get down there and investigate.

It took a little while, but Brou was nothing if not determined. It only took two or three small half-slips of the paws as she edged her way downcliff to make it to the bottom; undeterred by the near-misses and couple of minor scrapes, she trotted swiftly out to the edge of the water proper, to gaze out across the salty expanse. The final segment of sun was drowning itself far beyond, and already a few small pinpoints of light could be seen in the deepening velvety blue portion of sky far above it. Brou cocked her head at the brilliant red ripples lapping toward and away from the shore where her feet stood. ...It almost looked like a sea of blood. Delicious. I wonder how many deer ya'd have to kill to make that big a puddle, she mused aloud. Venison had been a rare and much-craved delicacy for some months, and she still had Bambi on the brain.