08-28-2008, 02:21 PM
Shattered Coast, and backdated to the 25th or so, because I’ve been lazy.
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It was still dark. The early morning breeze pushed the sea into the shoreline rhythmically and the water lapped softly against the sand. The only thoughts on the coyote’s mind were of the last four months, and how they didn’t amount to anything now that he was back. Sure, it had been enough time for a lot of things. He had shed many of his insecurities on the other side of that mountain, he had accepted a lot of things he hadn’t wanted to accept before, and he had realised what meant something to him—and what meant nothing to him. While the sand in the hour glass had never stopped draining, the southern side of the mountain welcomed him back easily. It didn’t ask any questions, and it didn’t chain him to the grains that had fallen in his absence. He had learned a few things about the world, and he had learned a few things about himself. Sooner or later, everything would be the way it had been, or something would change, and he would adapt. Controlling this was absolutely out of the question. The elapsed time didn't mean anything. It never would. Although he was separated from Faolin again, he had a relative idea of where she was, and he knew for certain that she was okay. This mattered more than anything, and until she returned, his main concern would be to continually check for indications that she was on her way (of course, he didn’t know that she had already come back before he had, and he wasn’t aware that Talitha had come back even before that). Maybe the reality was that everything was conditional, but the one childhood fantasy that remained in his mind countered what was an unquestionable truth. Family mattered more than anything, and would matter more than anything despite whatever could possibly happen. His family could do not wrong because they never had. Alone and content to bask in the absence of sunshine, his paws sank into the soft sand where the water could reach his toes, and he scanned the coast with sharp, champagne-coloured eyes. His makeshift hotel had always been one of the many caves chiselled out of the coastline and secure via the incoming and outgoing tides. Jesile had always felt safer there than anywhere else when he had been younger, but now it was simply a case of habit. He wanted to be there by the sea, the way he always had. An abundance of shellfish scattered there along the shores spelled out convenience anyway, and with the exception of high tide, there was virtually no downside to living there on the coast. With a final glance to the waves washing ashore, he began to make his way across the cool sand. |