Totoka River Hummingbird, just let me die

Using both the sea and the position of the celestial bodies, the Cardinal continued his trek to the southwest. His search was unceasing -- his senses, finely tuned to anything that might be construed as familiar. The Daystar would lead him to his children, He had to. It was His will after all, or else he wouldn't have sent Nova Rose (with all her knowledge) right into the Cardinal's lap. Perhaps Hiram took a liberal interpretation of the Daystar's will, but it was his right as Cardinal and head of the Faith. 

This search was more than a manifestation of his duty as a father, it was a mission from God himself. One of which Hiram would not fail. The Daystar sought to expand his church; His next converts had been predetermined. His children -- Reek's children -- would be children of Raas, baptized in his purifying light. He would save their souls.

And so, his search took him to a river, slowly winding to the sea. He had been here before, long ago, but the memory was hazy at best. Regarding the place with unfamiliarity, the cardinal cautiously pressed forward toward the bank. He waded into the ankle deep shallows and positioned himself precariously between a pair of smooth, water-swept rocks. Feeling parched from his travels, the man dipped his head low and took a much needed drink.

i was eyeballing this earlier, but you forgot to mark it All Welcome so i didn't realise it was open 'til i saw it in the wanted! thread! :)

After visiting Osprey at Donnelaith, Charon was taking a detour through the coast to see his childhood home once more. He felt himself grow more at ease, peaceful, happy, almost, despite the heavy weight that loomed over him. He'd gone chasing ravens in ravensblood forest and after an exhausting but incredibly fun chase, he wound up at the shoreline to behold the totoka river and the beautiful ocean that had once been next to his home.

He missed the ocean, he realised as he laid eyes on it, and could not help but feel happy and child-like as he made his way towards the river, following it as it wound down to the ocean. A warm breeze blew through his fur when Charon suddenly noticed another not far off, drinking from the river, ankle-deep in the water. His face was vaguely familiar but he couldn't place a name or pack on it. If he'd ever met this individual, it was a long time ago.

There were seagulls cawing not far from the other male. Even if he'd been chasing ravens for a bit, Charon suddenly felt himself inspired once more. He let out a friendly and playful bark and started to dash at the seagulls near the other wolf, his body language friendly and playful. It'd been a long time since he had felt this free.

A creature of habit, Coelacanth divided the majority of her time between the sweet serenity of the river and the organized chaos of the sea lions’ shoals. The length and texture of her inky coat made frequent baths necessary — for if she allowed the salt to collect in her feathery fur, it formed unbecoming dreadlocks that she found inconvenient and uncomfortable — but even if this were not the case, she enjoyed the chill she found in the river’s meandering curves. Too, the possibility of seeing Marbas again led her again and again to the glassy deltas, just as a lingering desire to find again the odd-eared siren of Tara led her occasionally to the hinterlands — an impulse that she succumbed to far less frequently due to her reluctance to stray too far from the coast she and Amoxtli now called home.

Today she had wandered further than usual, following the river upstream until she reached the hillock of crying gyrfalcons — but the seamless, repetitive screeching had bred in the normally unperturbed ingénue a growing misophonia, bidding her to retrace her steps. Pinning her tufted ears against her skull in a demure expression of her dislike, she waded into the water and sighed so deeply her gently-curved sides and coal-tipped muzzle fluttered with the force of it. Bending her head, she preened the salt from the silk of her breast and the feathers on her forelegs, submerging herself completely until she shivered deliciously. The water was cooler upstream, and she found the swell of snowmelt invigorating. Again and again she dipped her head below surface, careful to clamp her ears tightly against her head to prevent water from being trapped in their sensitive canals; and she shook herself in slow-motion, allowing the salt to fall away from her atramentous fur.

Half-walking and half-wading, she made her way downstream — and was surprised at the sound of a friendly bark that broke the water-rippled silence. The wolf she saw, loose and rapturous in his play, was dappled by a finer paintbrush than the sheep she remembered, but she felt a fond recognition swell within her breast regardless; and the wolf toward whom he leapt bore stark contrast: lean and angular, with dusty black pelage, he stood with what appeared to be an enduring weariness, his head bent low as he drank. A sting of disappointment that neither of the wolves were the friends she sought quelled the glad bark that bubbled in waiting readiness; she swallowed it — not that it would have been heard — as she made a cautious, diffident approach. Fanning her tufted ears forward in hopeful friendliness, she remained in the water, her bashful seablue eyes watching Charon’s exuberant display with a touch of wistfulness.

Oh shoot, I didn't realize that I had forgotten to mark this one! Thanks for jumping in y'all!

A sound stole the Cardinal's attention. He pulled his head from the river, water dripping from his maw as he looked toward the source of the bark with confusion. His gaze was met with two wolves: one positioned just within his periphery vision further down the river -- the other, who somehow had a vaguely familiar face, was met dead center in Hiram's gaze. Curiously, the familiar looking wolf was barreling toward him. Thankfully, there was enough time to realize that the wolf's course was not directed at him. No, it was the seagulls close by.

The Cardinal's tail wagged and he felt an excitement that he hadn't felt in a while. He was compelled to join in on the chase. Barking back, he turned to withdraw from the water and join in on the chase. He took off in a sprint toward the collection of gulls, all while briefly looking back to see if the third wolf would join in on the fun as well.

Much to Charon's excitement, the other wolf understood his intentions and joined in the game. He had not yet noticed the third wolf to have joined by that point, and let out a cheerful chuff at the greying black wolf to show his appreciation. He made a beeline around some of the seagulls, then dashed straight for them, sending them flying left and right while he snapped uselessly at their hocks, catching nothing for they knew what was coming and were long gone by the time he arrived.

It was then that he noticed the third wolf and, without another thought, he galopped across the lands to meet her, lowering down into a play bow in the water's shallows and letting out a woof of invitation. In this game, it was always the more the merrier.

I am sorry for the delay. ♥ I just hit my work week.

The inkdark girl watched with heightening eagerness as the dusty black wolf lifted his voice in a joyous bark and made a beeline for the small colony of seagulls, the sharp, angular nature of his construction made more apparent by this flurry of motion; and then her attention was wholly stolen away as Charon approached her at a headlong gallop. His nearness, sudden and uninvited, ought to have given her pause — but Seelie was a convivial creature, and marveled at the flecks of charcoal that gave him a mottled, freckled look not unlike the gyrfalcons whose company she had all too eagerly left behind. His eyes were a deep, eventide blue — more like the night sky than the sea — and appeared bright with friendliness as she bowed with his forelegs in the river shallows and woofed invitation. A little shyly, she eagerly dipped her muzzle below surface to fling a spray of droplets into the air, snapping at them before they could fall back into the river, showcasing her speed. Then, with an airy and toneless “bark” she bowed back, her feathered tail lashing the air.

Still tangled delightedly in the chill river water, she bounded up the embankment, coat streaming, and shook herself off — the silky fur sharpened into a plethora of porcupine-like quills, but she retained an air of appealing disarray as she bounced two high-stepping strides in Hiram’s direction, her seablue eyes arched and half-lidded into a smile. She spun, bowing again to Charon with a playful pattering of her catlike paws, and then dashed off toward the seagulls herself in a burst of fluid speed.

No worries!

He ran, briefly forgetting the seriousness of his search in favor of a moment of fun with perfect strangers. His path was set -- bolting right into the flock with Charon at his side. A flurry of flapping wings surrounded them in their assault as the birds took flight. Like his new companion beside him, Hiram felt compelled to snap at the gulls whenever they neared. Never to actually land a bite, but it was all in good fun.

The other darted away, leaving Hiram where the flock had been. Having not learned from their mistake, the flock of gulls came to settle just a short distance away. This time, Charon brought back a strange, whispy coated stranger. Noting her approach, Hiram turned to face the gulls and ran alongside the stranger to sweep through the flock again with a three pronged attack.

Much to his delight, the black-furred stranger accepted his wordless invitation and she followed him onto the river’s bank and back towards the flock of birds, but not before spraying him with some drops of water as she shook her fur. Meanwhile, the greying black wolf remained in the spot that the flock of seagulls had been. They had only a moment’s reprieve as they settled back on the ground not far from him before he came into motion.

Charon and the other wolf followed; first the greying black wolf crashed through the gulls, breaking their group and sending them scattered through the sky. Loud squawks of protest escaped their bills as Charon and the other wolf came along. Teeth snapped shut in the air, never catching more than a feather or two between his teeth. Charon didn’t remember having this much fun in some time.

Running between the rawboned wolf and his freckled companion bestirred within Coelacanth the ancient, instinctive joy of her wild ancestors — the solidarity and reassurance that could only be felt in full when surrounded by others of her kind. Tossing her head like a spirited filly, she bounded after the seagulls and kicked up her heels in sheer delight; a stutter in her step belied the initial urge to adjust her gait, allowing Hiram and Charon to take the lead as her nose kept even pace with their shoulders. A submissive creature, and diminutive in comparison to her full-blooded brethren, she found herself relaxing despite her better judgment and bent her body low to put on more speed as the whir of wings fanned frantically against her face.

Once again, Hiram found himself in a commotion of flapping wings and noise. Around him, gulls took flight. He felt himself covered in a living, breathing shroud. It was both beautiful and chaotic, and above all -- it was the most fun he had a long time. The fun, however, was short-lived. The flock soon dispersed and Hiram was left panting from this short burst of play.

After the flock thinned, Hiram chuffed to both strangers and turned away. This had been a brief, commercial like moment of happieness. Good every once and a while, but a distraction from the search at hand.

He left his new friends by the river delta and continued south.

my last post, thanks guys :D

They ran once more towards the birds, feathers flying everywhere and wings flapping with loud caws falling from their beaks. He didn't get any of them bar a tail feather here and there as they flapped away, but that wasn't what their game was about, anyway. After all the birds had flown he stood still a moment and watched the greying dark stranger turn away from them after a brief chuff of farewell.

Then he turned to the other wolf, lowered his rump in a play bow and then dashed after the birds, which had landed not far from them. For another two or three runs he stayed until eventually it was time to depart and he would do so as wordlessly as the greying dark wolf had, but with a certain childish joy in his heart.

Thank you for the thread!

The gulls soon tired of the game and took wing, whirling higher and higher toward the sun until they blocked out the light in a flurry of winged silhouettes. Whimsically, Coelacanth hoped they would grow too close and fall again to the earth in the form of rotisserie chicken — a rare delicacy she and Amoxtli had only been allowed to try once, when they were imprisoned in the cabin after the terrifying experience at the animal hospital. Licking her lips at the delectable memory of crispy, crackling skin and moist, succulent meat, she dipped her muzzle respectfully as the dark wolf made a dignified, businesslike departure. From this vantage point she could see the dusty quality of his pelt and the fading of his charcoal pelt along his muzzle; automatically she catalogued his scent, her bright eyes finding a unique charm in the wolf despite the physical evidence of hardship that marked his thin frame.

The dappled wolf turned to Coelacanth then and splayed his forelegs in a playful bow, dashing off the birds which had landed a short distance away — none of them, Seelie lamented, in rotisserie chicken form. She liked this wolf, whose pelt reminded her of gyrfalcons — and, if she reached further back in her memory, the sheep her mother had guarded so fiercely — and was all too eager to follow him, resuming the game. When they parted ways, the sheepdog cross felt a pang of sorrow — she did not know his name, and the odds were good that she never would. Friendship was a poignantly evanescent affair for the girl who could neither call for her companions nor ask that they come to see her without express and intensive effort on both ends. A soft whine, toneless and airy, spilled from her muzzle as she watched the wolf go. Then she collected in her mouth a few glistening wing feathers for her beloved brother — thank all the gods for Amoxtli, without whom Coelacanth would have been lost! — as she returned to their salt-crusted home.