Sea Lion Shores Rotten tropics by the sea

Calling Mary and her @Kierkegaard.

After receiving confirmation of Lasher’s death, Sassafras decided to linger just a little longer near the coast. It had been nearly a year since she had stood in the seafoam of the shores and she was sorely missing it, but to get there required more effort than she had anticipated. The fresh scent of a pack at Stavanger Bay caused her to divert her preferred direct path and carefully pick her way along outside their borders. It was not without a little luck, she was certain, that no one had stopped or threatened her. The wolves of Donnelaith were a rare breed to be so forthcoming, and she was left with an unfamiliar sense of calm after departing. This brief repose did not translate to stupidity, however, and so she proceeded with caution.

The barking of sea lions could be heard far from the sandy shores as she approached, causing the light to return to her warm mahogany eyes. She had thought that just seeing the open ocean rolling forward and back could have sated her longing, but now that she was there, she felt compelled to trot out to the edge to feel the waves rush over her small, pitch black paws. She kept a healthy distance between herself and the sea lions, but she watched them interact and laze about with a bright smile as she walked in the surf, feeling at ease with the resistance of the tide as it moved against her.