Dragoncrest Cliffs I'm not sure what's worse, the waiting or the waiting room

Over the wash of waves that flanked her, she could not hear her mother's pawsteps on the sand but she'd felt the light warmth of eyes upon her. Between the waves that she sustained, to cleanse the trailing, superficial wound, she caught a glimpse of her mother's earth-wine pelt, and had smiled faintly, though she kept her lips pressed together tightly so she would not taste the saltwater. The waving of her tail would have been lost beneath the water's surface, but relaxed welcome would have shone in the posture of her shoulders. 

She turned to look to her mother over one shoulder, carefully though, so that the tender flesh might not tear. Saturated as it was, the proudflesh was tender and willing to allow her to move so that her mother could see the tear that split the skin from her temple to her shoulder.

But a battle? It had been a battle, but only until Erzulie had pulled away. At that point, the rest had become a poorly executed retreat. Come stand wit' me She invited, her voice rising and falling with the ebb and flow of the water around her. She was content to let the water cleanse her wounds- but she was happy to have someone share the waves with her.