Totoka River crush the fears of yesterday

gravid moon eased to feeble morning light as sobeille supped her parched thirst at tokota’s junction and then moved on.

she’d lost at least one pursuer earlier, and the other she could not say — a hammering paranoia she had never felt before heightened her senses.

like the great ungulates she’d hunted the last quarter, sobeille put the river to good use. when she first crossed it, she’d run just enough to be out of visibility, and then crossed it again and tamped the ground with her scent. walking along the bank in a false direction, she then crossed once more and this time stayed along moving currents where her scent could not be traced. by doing this she borrowed time not easily afforded.

the river curled west, and when it slowed sobeille paused at the bank and looked around her measuring her safety. rather than rest, she made straight for the ocean and headed south along the sandpack, knowing the rising tide would immediately obscure evidence of her passing.

at some point, she must return home. yet first, sobeille intended to send the two marauders in the direction of murkwood with just enough scant evidence of her passing here.

as the tide rolled out, sobeille followed the swashline. a large float of stranded kelp drew her close with tired steps. she raked at the weeds, crunching bivalves and unfortunate hitchhikers between her teeth while keeping vigilance, ears and eyes scouring the surroundings for any sign of her pursuer.