Dragoncrest Cliffs Psalm

When the golden hour came, Chacal entered the darkness of the tunnel and emerged into the filtered light, gazing out over the ocean to where the sun lingered yet still above the horizon. She lifted one of her left forefeet, and squinted one eye, measuring the distance between the sun and the horizon with the width of her paw. An hour, she thought, before sunset.

The sand was warm. She, too, radiated heat; from the pain coursing through her vessels to the dark coat that absorbed the sun’s light like a coat of velvet.

She moved to lay in the shallows, where she could feel the cool brush of the waves against her underside. It helped, she thought. It was a distraction, at least.

She called for @Shadess, with much on her mind.