Totoka River crush the fears of yesterday

Gilded eyes, a scar cut just beneath that proud obsidian mask. Seelie watched her speak, studied her sharp white teeth, the little gap where one had been broken away. The crystalline salt-crust at her whiskers, the fine dark hair of her muzzle. The scent of blood seemed to follow the darkling, but Seelie didn't mind.

Sometimes, Seelie answered easily, blue eyes meeting the gold. What a pretty voice the stranger had. Not today, I think. Today she was a searcher, nothing more, just a wanderer sifting through the sands looking for something she couldn't name.

And you?