Wheeling Gull Isle I pray for the wicked on the weekend

AW! :)

It was early morning when she rose, an rhythmic drumming of rain against the walls of the small cave that Faeryn had huddled inside for the night. The sunlight was only now beginning to rouse more colours from a sleepy monochrome, awakening the strokes of dim orange that poked just above the line on the horizon until they were glowing embers - vibrant streaks of gold and vermillion in the sky. The water falling from that sky was light but soaked her fur like a raincoat with a hole scorched into the side, pelt dampening under the canvas of morning.

She had little reason to be up at such a time, but the tranquility of the early hours drew her like a moth to a flame, gaze trained firmly upon the rolling waves of the sea as she approached the edges of the sand and simply observed while the sun began to rise in the sky.