Horizon Ridge well then, i confess

the sea cuts upon the shore rough; a storm brewing out past the horizon, already bleak and grey and dark from the moment the sun had risen on the portside of the world. he can taste it in the tang of the salt, the seabrine kissing at his fur — freshly knotted with sandpiper feathers at his shoulder ( gifts found and not plucked, mind ) and dried from his most recent seabath.

he'd eaten his fill of seal; beached and left half eaten upon the shore ...though whether it had been a seabeast or otherwise that had felled it mattered little. it had been left to the scavengers, one of which rhaegal counted himself among.

at least, for now.

ears cup forth, alert as he makes his away along the shore that caps the ridge, skillfully making his way along the large rocks slick with bird droppings and seawater; fleetfooted.