Sea Lion Shores It was as though I'd been spit here

@Araceli


Still within sight of the Isle, Thresher meandered along the shore, recognizing places she had played as a pup on the mainland. With a pang of sadness, she walked past the bleached bones of the whale which had washed up on the shore during a stormy night one night, and she- tossed upon the shore by the same waves which had knocked her off the landbridge- had been near it as its only companion while it had died. It still pained her, for within those bones, still laying in a fairly organized albeit somewhat sand-covered skeleton, lay the memories of the sad eye which had gazed upon her as the whale had slowly stopped breathing. Each long, curved jaw bone lay in place, and the tips of each vertebrae still stuck up out of the ground. The ribs by now had been covered with sand, as well as the rest of its bones, unless they'd been dragged away by the waves. She wished somehow that it could remain untouched, not pulled apart and left hither and to- but that was simply nature's way. 

She stayed with the skeleton, looking out toward the ocean, the island not far off in the distance, and could hear the occasional roar of a sea lion nearby. For the most part, she avoided them; they were meat eaters too, and deserved respect; her mother had told her stories about sea lions, and she knew that they were not to be bothered or hunted. Like the whale, she offered the same sort of respect. Just as she was about to move away from the area, she heard a sharp exhale, above the sound of the waves. Her gaze sharpened, and she turned her dark muzzle toward the ocean once more, just in time to see a spray of water vaporize into the air- followed by another. She smiled. There were whales, still- likely humpback whales, like the one which had washed ashore a year ago. She watched for their small, curved dorsal fins, and called out with a high, endearing howl when one arched its back, and presented its fluke to the sun before diving below the water's surface. Though they were far away, she hoped they would hear, and perhaps answer back, as whales were known to do, occasionally. For the present, they were silent- simply coming to the surface to breathe, often three times- before presenting their fluke and disappearing as they dove below the surface.