Gilded Bay curry western

he liked how close the grove was to the bay. he had become quite fond of the view here, especially at sunrise and sunset. and while there was nothing wrong with the palms--he preferred their shelter, especially as winter approached--govinda had always appreciated a bit of variety. spice in the mix, so to say. kept things from getting overly dull.

the man trotted the beach, weaving in and out of the surf. soon, his paws and legs were spattered with wet sand, his normally well-groomed pelt windswept and salt-kissed. he was happy, though out of breath. he drew to a stop, panting, the water pooling around his ankles, then retreating again.

it was night, and a crescent moon hovered over the horizon, given a moment's reprieve from the suffocating clouds. the ethereal light glinted pale gold off his hawkish gaze and sparkled off the waves. it was cold and breezy--

and perfect.