Gilded Bay Standing in the open light

His travels have made him much too weary, but he doesn’t stop. No he’ll break to dip his head in a reverent prayer every so often, but otherwise keeps his head high and drives forth. His oddly colored eyes set hard on the horizon, he has yet to see another soul in this place. Besides the mindless stare of a rabbit or perhaps the weary eyes of passing deer. Once already he’s seen a small family of coyotes, yet no once has spoken to his reverence since his human girl died. Oh how he misses the words of faith speaking from her soft lips into the perked pink saucers of his ears. 

He strides into the sandy coast, his pale form looking at home on the coast. He drifts into the receding shoreline, paws getting wet, he walks until his chest is soaked with the saltwater that will cause his sensitive fur to curl later. He stands here all on his lonesome, eyes akin to the sky and sun high in a summer day he gazes out into the ocean. He closes his eyes and prays. For what? No one but he will know.