The Sentinels Flower, gleam and glow

It’s time to swing by the caldera again, though Bushtit’s in no hurry. He moseys down the coast, the shifting sands beneath his feet reminding him of the lowlands. Otherwise, his surroundings could not be more different. He strides through the surf washing up in this particular bay and turns his head to the right. His dark eyes linger on the whitecaps as he debates which he loves more nowadays: the desert or the ocean?

The shoreline curves, sand giving way to rocks, and the youth turns due south and heads inland with some reluctance. Bushtit trots along the fringe of a forest rife with spring growth. He cranes his neck to peer up at the towering trees. They’re so impressive, he actually slows to a stop to marvel at them. He quickly decides he needs a closer look.

He trots toward the nearest one, though before he reaches it, a scent threads into his nose. His nares twitch as he pauses again to assess it. His dark eyes brighten a little when Bushtit realizes it belongs to a female. Putting a pin in his original plan to get a closer look at the huge tree, he focuses on the underbrush as he tracks her scent.

When he comes upon her, all he can see is her posterior lifted in the air as she digs in the earth. Bushtit nearly bumps into said buttocks but quickly halts and backpedals, loudly clearing his throat.