Cerulean Cape salt tracing

crowell crashes from the treeline like a storm made flesh, gaunt legs flying, jaws parting with a snarl. her scent was everywhere now—salt and fear—and he drank it down like wine.
flamebright eyes catch her, just a flicker of tan against the blue-glass shimmer of sea ahead, and it sets his blood alight.
erzuuuulie! he bellows, a crow’s caw dragged through oil. thought ye could fuckin’ outrun me?!
he laughs, full-bodied and cruel, surging down the slope toward the sand. she was running again—but there was nowhere left to go.
ahead, only sea.
behind, only him.