Dragoncrest Cliffs The bottle stench may be here to stay

She'd found her way down to the shoreline, where the sandy shore formed a thin line against the jagged cliffs and rocks that had tumbled from from the reaches in piles of massive boulders. The tide was out, s she searched for treasures along the shoreline, with the constant hush and hiss of the waves in her ears. Above her, gulls drifted on the wind and cried out every now and again; they had nests along the cliffs, but it was not yet time for them to lay eggs so they didn't seem too bothered by the wolf scavenging along the shoreline. 

She glanced up at them, and along with the rhythm of the waves that ebbed and flowed, she began to spin a song she knew- one she'd heard often enough as sung by her mother, in one of her two mother tongues. 

"Ti zwazo koté ou pralé?
Mwenn prale kay fiyét lalo,
Fiyét lalo k'on mangé ou tou-
si ou alé lap mangé ou tou!"

It was only half of the song, but she paused to look up the birds which continued to hang on the gales of air like kites; unimpressed by her singing, but at least she knew for herself that it was an accomplishment. It was the beginning of a discovery, too- that if she could sing, she could speak.