Dragoncrest Cliffs First thing I did was climb in to a rum bottle.

Raimo was breathing hard and fast. He felt aches in his shoulders and his back from the work of pulling the fat, wet creature free of the rocks. The cooling ocean wind was not as welcome as one might have thought, as it chilled his soggy body too much and too quickly; but he could not complain, he had not the breath nor the want.

The dead seal was free of the surf. It was bloated beyond what was normal for its kind, fish-bitten along its belly, missing an eye should anyone check. Raimo did not know if it would be a suitable meal or if it was too far gone for such — he was not a seawolf, and everything along the shore smelled like death to him.

So when Erzulie made her way along the rocks to where he was, Raimo took no notice. If she had remained upon her patch of wet sand he likely would not have looked over to see her, but she spoke, and Raimo was surprised to find he was no longer alone. It was a passing sensation.

The sound of his teeth clicking as he hoisted the anchor of his tongue and closed his mouth was likely lost among the pulse of the waves, but her words were not. Raimo was unable to reply immediately; he was catching his breath, his sides undulating to a different rhythm.