pretty when you cry

The dissident coywolf thrashed around in the shallow depths of the salty water, nipping sharply at each foamy wave-crest that lapped past her. She sneezed and wrung her head as the salt assaulted her tongue -- instantly she retracted and turned back to the somber, fearful wolf.

She tread through the frothy water until it was scarcely above her pasterns -- all lathered were they by iridescent white spume. The girl spoke again, perhaps to justify her fear -- and Caiaphas shot her a disapproving scowl.

"You'll die eventually. By drowning, a hoof to the skull, or whatever the gods have arranged for you. No sense in fretting." Once more her voice seemed fairly matter of fact, but it lacked any sort of derision or malice -- she was, in short, being somewhat pragmatic. "If you are so afraid of the sea why are you here?"