Shimmering Sands muradoii III

Cetseni tumbles down the slope, unserious as it was permissible to be, returning the bites and bumps of her siblings, playful and eager to make use of her legs, especially curious to how the sand seemed to hinder her movement. She touches a paw to the sand and scoops what she can to investigate, the particles sift throw the cracks of her paws. When mother's voice cuts through the air, she lines up with Ts'okun and Yakona, nestled between the two.

If once mother was god, Cetseni had found something higher. Understood as soon as she breathed the seasalt air, the cold breeze brought in with a deep inhale, a connection is found in the thunderous crashing of the waves, relentless in their barrage of the sand, of eachother, if the souls of ancestors broiled beneath the churning waves, they demanded strength even in death.

But for now, her attention came back to beacon of strength she had in life. Ghost pale, dark eyes same as them all. Red as sister's blood. Was she in the waves too? What was to be of the weak?

They rot. If any of the lecture was understood, it was that. Red stare stays stone still, little ears tune to the sea. She would not show it, but a part of her she cannot control hopes, wishes, that all three of them can keep up. Does the sea listen to her thoughts?

To stand at coast edge and let seabreeze ruffle the raven fur of her neck was, if anything, inspiring. Daughter's eyes find mothers again, attentive, a new curiosity taken root. Small hawk wishes for more. She is greedy, hungry.