three rounds and a sound

Unatsikanogeni Adahy · 09-10-2012, 08:38 AM

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Hello there! Big Grin +426

He tried to step across the rocky shore with grace and ease, but Unatsikanogeni ended up stumbling on loose pebbles and stepping on a sharp stone; in hindsight, yelping and grabbing for the hurt foot wasn’t very intelligent when his balance was already compromised, and so it shouldn’t have been any surprise that he ended up in the rocky sand, huffing to himself. Sand, sand, salt, sand—this was why he hated the beach so much; it got everywhere, and he hated the taste of brine every time he licked his lips and nose. The howling wind didn’t help matters; his large ears flattened petulantly as he blinked sand from his lashes. There was almost no point in coming here at all!

But then the red wolf chanced a glance at the eastern horizon. The sun broke free from the ocean’s watery clutches, floating gently skyward and painting the sky with pink and periwinkle and primrose. He smiled involuntarily at the display, his tail flopping awkwardly against the rocks, and scrambled to sit upright again. It was pretty to watch the sunsets on the coastline of AniWaya, but traveling across the Western Tangles to see it rise was almost even more gorgeous. The yellow of the sun reminded him of his profession, of hope and love, and he wondered if this was some sort of a sign from the great spirits that everything was going to be okay.

Well, regardless of if the good omen was true, Unatsi still slipped and stumbled along the shoreline when he went to leave.

He fully intended to head straight back to AniWaya, perhaps hunting along the way (although everyone knew how well that would work), but his plans changed as a wind-distorted voice called out from further along the beach. His big ears pricked and swiveled forward, dislodging a piece of beaded hair from his head and letting it drop into his face. The call was perplexing, but the second a little louder and more clean-cut: someone asking if anyone else was there.

“Tsagatvganv!” the crop farmer howled back, lapsing into Cherokee. He made quick but clumsy process in that direction before finding the source of the call: a mink-colored female with curled dark hair and doggish feathering in many interesting places. She was reclined in the sand, dropping pebbles from her fingers, and Una swallowed uncertainly as he looked at her muscled, curvy form.

“Osiyo,” Unatsi stammered, and then: “I mean, hello, that’s what I meant, and I came because uh, you were—you were calling for somebody?”

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