Sequoia Coast esperanza

There's salt on the breeze, trees shifting as she draws closer to the coast. The sky rolls grey, sprawling above her, dense clouds shielding her from baby blue. A sigh slips past her maw and she tears her gaze from the sky, hoping that it does not open up. She doesn't like the rain -- it's messy and she hates having wet fur. The sensation and smell of it is all too much.

Sand creeps between the flesh of her toes, the grain of it almost too much to bear. There's a permanent grimace on her face as she walks, teal eyes narrowed as she pauses to shake sand stirred up by the wind from her russet and black coat.