Sequoia Coast ﹙ꕥ﹚Called to the Devil and the Devil did come

it was dusk by the time sobeille left the islands and carved up the coast. rosy clouds mutely moved across a canvas of lavender, the color not unlike the weeping sweetness of chicory bloom on an overcast day.

sobeille walked with the waves to her right, eyes adjusting the the settling light. ahead a silhouette breasted the waves — from a distance, she could not see features, only shapes.

sobeille drew close, but did not announce herself — all it would take would be the wolf to look behind her to know she was not alone.