Sea Lion Shores because I could not stop for death

The boy followed, head held even with his shoulders as to not disturb the skull thrown across his back.

The only time he made a movement, was his eerie skitter to the water, where he then proceeded to dunk his face in and drink as deeply as he could manage. He let out an involuntary, pleased hum, tail giving one single bob upwards, as though an aborted wave took place.

He pulled his face away from the water a minute or so later, licking the droplets off his whiskers and whispy furs beside his mouth. Already, his throat felt better.

Many thanks to you. Without the gargle of salt, the voice of the boy didn’t get much better. Still mildly hissing, and growing lower as he grew older.