Sequoia Coast born into cruelty and crooked form

He backtracked today, reaching the coast under the cover of night.

Solpallur stuck to walking the damp sand where the high tide had once been, his scouting lending to his ranging. The moon was nothing more than a narrow sliver in the sky, obscured more often than not by cloud cover that masked the night sky just as well. Stargazing was out of the question while he roamed, though what he sought exactly was undetermined.

There was nothing much to find out there at such a late hour; the birds had all gone to roost, the seals out doing whatever they desired to do best, and perhaps most important of all he found solitude where recent days had gone without them. @Stjornuati’s company didn’t count, though he seemed to have absconded into the night without him. A dangerous game to play in relatively unknown lands, but one that he delved into once in a great while.

There was much to take in here where the sawgrasses clumped together; this stretch of shore was indeed traveled, though the sea would take away any trace and print. But it was quiet for now in all but the roar of a raging sea. It churned and thrashed, crashing against sea stone and shore no more than a short distance away. As he drew in those scents left behind in the grasses, his gaze was drawn out to the darkness, and his eyes took sight of the seafoam left behind on the gentle sands.