The Sentinels hear the ocean breathe, exhale upon the shore

The forest beside the bay had been something of a conundrum for the inkhound. He had found himself drawn to it, in some aspect. Just as strongly, he had felt himself repulsed by it. For all of the stories that his mother had shared with them of the looming trees – all the magic – he did not expect to find it in such a sorry state. The titan was reminded of it every time the wind carried ash into the bay. Ford knew that life would return to the wood, but he did not know when.

Standing on the edge of the world, the scent of his own blood seemed to take him and hold him captive. He cast a look over his shoulder once, and then to the other one where he saw the sandy coat and lengthy limbs of his willow-legged sister. Lilia seemed as though she was occupied with her approach, and so the warhound waited with a calculated gaze.