Dragoncrest Cliffs what? wow. so fragile.

he can’t remember the last time 
he slept without his stomach bucking;
a malcontent tossing and turning 
against his ribcage in restless torment

some days are better than others
but despite his frequent visits 
to an always full cache
cayetano’s figure keeps dwindling 

he wonders where kheviel is today;
he hopes sunning on a warm rock
dreaming little dreams of fish and sea
while warm rays drum their fingers
over her dark and radiant fur

he winces and sits down
his back resting against the supportive arch
of roja den’s granite face. 

keeping somewhat vague but this fits timeline-wise :3

"You."

She'd found him- the one eligible man in the pack who wasn't a relative one way or another. He was at the Roja den of all places- something which irked her as she wondered if he knew of the den's importance. She eyed him up and down and then huffed, and jerked her chin over her shoulder. 

"Come wid me."

As cryptic as it was, the hormonal young woman did not suspect her request would be denied. Any who knew her as a part of the Dahomey-Rivaini line would surely follow her command, and if that wasn't enough- this was a man she was inviting. She simply expected him to comply- and to do so happily.

his back's up against rock
when the woman appears
round as summer ripe fruit
two lilac stones set in dove grey 

who is he to say no?
he looks around
as if to confirm
me?

but it's just him and the stones
her and the birds
so he follows wordless
expecting some chore dangled at the end of this carrot.

She was well aware of the fact that he might seem more inclined to follow her- perhaps wondering if she might have chosen him to sire a litter. She'd let him think whatever he would- but would wordlessly lead him beyond the Bluepeace meadow, and down through the dark tunnel that lead to the beach. 

Every now and again, she'd glance over her shoulder at him, just to make sure that he was following, and that he didn't get too close. 

She led him down to the shore, toward the cove where tall boulders lay half-buried in the sand. Between them were gaps, narrow passages where the waters flowed in and out with each wave; at high tide, the waters would still not reach past the boulders. She turned toward him. 

"I used to 'ave a net built 'ere," She said. "I took driftwood from de beach, an' stacked it between dese boulders. Seaweed 'olds dem toget'er." She said. "What 'appens, is dat when de tide comes in, it goes over an' t'rough de net, bringing wid it fish, crabs, ot'er edible t'ings. An' when de tide goes out...Dey be trapped 'ere, above de tideline." She said. She gave him a quick look up and down. "I need someone to 'elp me build it again." She raised an eyebrow, unsure herself whether this was a invitation or a demand.

she leads him down through a tall forest 
where slants of sunlight 
cut like blades through black

then down toothsome cliffs
where the sea draws blue claws
across slick sandstone

then to a beach;
where she occasionally looks back
yet not so inviting to come close. 

a chore. it’s what he expected.
he steps over the patchwork of twisted netting
and noses the largest piece. 
good thing i don’t mind
getting my feet a little dirty.

it’s busy work, but it’s better than nothing
he just hopes his stomach cooperates 
just long enough to see his work done.