Dragoncrest Cliffs Lost pearl

When Tousaint finally returned to the shore, it was many miles North of Sapphique, in lands he did not recognize. Pebbles rather than sand, and inland, a marsh that stunk of bog water. Exhausted, he had spent the night just beyond the tideline, too tired to find shelter for himself. He suffered the thrust and scream of winds, a scattered dusting of snow, and slept through it all, crushed from sheer exhaustion. 

The journey South took longer than he had expected. he'd made good use of the riptide, but now he suffered the consequence of being taken so far out to sea. Travel by land was slow, and he knew that if he was to survive the journey, he still had to hunt, and find fresh water. He survived off what he could scavenge from tide pools, so that he could conserve energy. This early in the year, though, the waters were cold, and there was not much food to be found. 

He saw the cliffs, and nearly wept at the sight of them. He took no time to clean himself, to tidy the fur which he had unfailingly kept so well maintained, until now. It curled lightly from the salty breeze but did little to hide his ribs, or the sunken point near his flank. 

He wondered who remained, and who survived. When he reached the borders, he hoped for some indication that the pirates had been vanquished, that his mother and aunt still reigned- but their scents weren't there. In their place, a scent that nearly made his heart stop-

Sobeille.