09-29-2009, 10:10 AM
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WC: 400+
I at first debated whether to pick up another thread, and then I realized Rurik is a PIRATE! So here I am. 
She’d been wandering again. Not watching were her feet were going, and now Finn was inescapably lost. She didn’t know these lands, didn’t know the names they had been bestowed by the more permanent residents. She’d skirted the city, treading on the very edge where grass turned to sidewalk and asphalt. What had drawn her onwards was the sea. She had come from a palce where the mountains rose so high that they tore at the clouds, or dove so low that deep lakes rippled at their feet, but Finn had never seen the sea. The vast expanse of water that spread out beyond the shoreline was beautiful and terribly frightening.
She had heard of Luperci who took to the sea, sailing around in big, wooden things called boats. The very thought of such activities made Finn shudder with nausea. All those waves and salty water… The wolf shook her head at the folly, and continued on her way. As was customary, Alastair drifted about as she walked, sometimes near, sometimes far, sometimes not visible at all. He had his own business, whatever that was, and Finn didn’t expect him to be permanently glued to her side. She wasn’t his master nor were they even the best of friends. They often grew frustrated with each other when one failed to understand the lexicon of gestures, head bobs and wordless growls. They had just had such an episode, and Alastair had trotted off in a huff.
After a time, Finn came upon the mouth of a large cave. She liked the look of the water, the bright blue was quite enticing, and felt tempted to jump in. The day wasn’t exactly hot, the whole area had been plagued by fall rainstorms for the last couple days, and mostly everything, including Finn, was damp and chilled. But it wasn’t like she was going to get any colder, right? Holding her breath, Finn took a running leap into the water outside the grotto, and promptly lost her supply of air when she realized just how cold the Atlantic Ocean could be. She yelped silently, or tried to, instead taking in a mouthful of salty water.
Disorientated and starting to panic, she paddled for the entrance to the grotto, and broke through the surface choking and gasping like some new kind of furred fish. She heaved herself on to the bank and lay there a moment, spitting out the grit that had been stirred up by her flailing legs. The edge of her back paw had been cut on a sharp rock, and the blood dripped off slowly, running into the blue water before disappearing. Finn sighed heavily, she could feel herself starting to harbour a real dislike of the ocean.