There was something decidedly poetic about the sound of waves crashing on the beach and the taste of salt remaining when one swiped their tongue over their lips. Poetry was usually folly, but these sensations were not lost on the loner pacing along the shoreline. She knew to enjoy the quiet moments like these but not to lionize them; it was a lovely balance, and balance was essential to life. One could not give in to silly whims, but one could not march through life indulging in only the most basic urges.
Her thirst wasn’t too pressing, but Vesper’s hunger was ruining the content demeanor she’d had. She looked out at the water and moved more quickly along the coastline, wondering if she could catch a seabird off guard or steal its eggs. She swept her tongue around her mouth.
As it so happened, however, she did not need to bother. A glimmer of silver at the edge of the damp sand piqued her interest, and as she trotted closer, she realized it was a sizable dead fish that had washed up on shore. The ocean had only recently given its gift; no birds or scavengers had been at it yet. She gave the thing a sniff, wondering if it was okay to eat, then grabbed the tail in her jaws and pulled it with her to the edge of the beach, where the sands soon gave way to cracked pavement and vegetation.
Here, Vesper was quick to wolf down her meal. Predictably, it had a taste that could only be described as “salty” and “fishy,” but as it slid into her stomach, she could care less what it had tasted like. She licked her lips again, this time with satisfaction, and settled down at the edge of the sand warmed by the mid-morning sun. She sighed, resting her chin on her forelegs, and closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift off for a quick nap.
