Dragoncrest Cliffs The wave crashed in, now the dream is dead

She waited for the fog to burn off in the July sun this time before heading off to hunt. The woods were decidedly less eldritch for it, though as midday approached, clouds scudded in to smother the sun. Preoccupied with her insistent search for small game, Pie didn’t particularly notice besides a small dip in temperature. When she finally looked up from her task, the air had grown quite gloomy, with the threat of rain heavy overhead.

Her scalp prickled seconds before a howl ripped through the air. Tiuttuk turned her head so fast, it audibly cracked. The howl died down only to be replaced by a distant bellowing that made the Ostrega’s ears flatten to her head. She pictured that same creature that had haunted her mind the past few days and very nearly scurried back to @Sobeille’s grotto.

This time, she marshaled her wits and marched forward, albeit cautiously. She came to the edge of a cliff overlooking the beach below. There was a wolf down there, sprawled in the sand near the water’s edge. In fact, the surf struck him with each wave that climbed up the shore. If he was ill or injured, he was at risk of being dragged out to sea and drowned.

Treepie realized her pulse was racing. She sent up a call for Alaric, hoping the healer was in earshot. She then sent up a second call, for the ears of the stranger below. “Can you hear me? Do you need help?”