Sequoia Coast Next destination: New East facility 23

meredith perched atop a ridge of bleached stone, the sea breeze whipping at her wiry coat. her sharp eyes scanned the expanse below, catching the faint, hunched figure of a wolf near the brine. it was a sight, alright—poor lad looked half-starved and half-mad, though weren’t they all?

yer lookin’ a bit lost, mate, she called down, her mummers accent twisting the words into a melodic taunt. she didn’t descend just yet, letting her voice carry on the salty wind.

ain’t much sanity t’ be found ‘round these parts, so if that’s what yer after, reckon you’ve sailed up the wrong creek. a low chuckle followed, her tail giving a lazy sway as she leaned against the wind, watching him like a hawk sizing up prey.

what’s brought ya t’ the edge, eh? treasure, ghosts, or just plain bad luck?