Honeyed Pasture kanivaun ╦

the tall grasses nearly swallowed the lithe, dark figure who traversed them now with singular purpose. cormorant sought the sea, having decided that a beachside vacation was sorely needed after the onslaught of the needy and unfortunate that had been unleashed upon him. he did not need more wounded birds to tend. whatever curse was upon him, cormorant would outrun it. he'd done it before - and like then, he did not care to know which of his sins had brought this plague to him.

when he caught the smell of salt in the air, cormorant knew he was heading in the right direction. he only prayed he would not run into any more wounded or ailing wolves on the way.

instead he found a woman wearing a pelt as pale as her fur and the scents of a dozen other wolves. more, perhaps. cormorant scented her before he saw her, and decided to allow their paths to cross when he determined that she was healthy. there was no scent of illness or injury on her, at least. no, she smelled like a mother, a wife, a pack wolf. normal and boring, which was perfectly acceptable to cormorant.

hello, he said politely. i'm looking for the coast - this seems close, but i'm not certain i'm going the right direction. would you happen to know which way it is?