Stavanger Bay Flower In The Wind

Each day Witchhazel's curiousity grew and grew until it was no longer able to be contained within her tiny little body. She was a girl mature of mind and experienced in the ways of drama and stress: wandering too far down the beach one day was the least of her worries. Finding her way back might be hard, but as long as she kept the mighty ocean to her left, she knew she need only follow it back to her right. Right? 

She stopped when the scent of a border smacked her in the nose, a ring of black drawing her blue-ish-eyed gaze curiously. What was this?

As if looking for the answer, Witch turned that gaze to the sea. She felt a strong pull to the water since the day she'd arrived here, and though she was smart enough to know that a dunk in the icy depths did not bode well with her tiny -- even however padded she was with baby fat and a thick double coat -- she wished to be submerged. It didn't exactly click her mind she may need skills to do this, but that was an adventure for another day.