Cerulean Cape black ravens swooping down

gradually, wintersbane makes his way down the sequoia coast, starting from the no-man's-land that stretches between the end of the wilds and dragoncrest cliffs to the cerulean cape where he lingers now. the sand grinding between his toes and sticking to the fur of his paws and lower half of his legs grates on his nerves; the tangy seabrine beating against his scarred visage not entirely unpleasant ...but it left sand in his mouth; still, he follows the snaking coast all the same. what he searches for or even why he has returned at all remains largely a mystery to him but wintersbane has become a man of whims; drawn back, perhaps, by the children sired and abandoned by him or for some other purpose ...it matters not. the morning is clear and his belly is full from the already dead seal he feasted upon and for the moment he is as content as he can be,