"Give thou... thine heart... to the wild... frick... magic... argh."


"To the Lord... and, ugh, Lady... of Nature..."


"Nnnguh, beyond any... consideration... of this... shit... world. Fuck, Danu damn it all!"


This last curse was uttered with one final, exhausting heave as a shaggy, sopping, tri-colored form pulled itself determinedly onto the ragged shoreline. It flung itself down in a heap, panting, before struggling to a sitting position, arms on knees, head hanging between them.


"Do not covet... large or small... do not despise weakling... or poor... semblance of evil... allow not near thee... never give... nor earn... thou shame." And, for good measure: "Holy fucking Danu, thank you goddess for that."


She sat for another few moments, catching her breath, before turning her chocolate eyes outwards toward the sea. Danu's light was just beginning to grace the waters, turning that hateful expanse into a beautiful cloak of shimmering diamonds. Spent thought she was, instilled with a new-found hatred for all things salty and wet, Cerridwyn could not help but appreciate the glory of the sunrise on the ocean.


In a sudden wave of listlessness, she decided that she didn't give three flying Fomorians about the beauty of Danu on the water, and had just enough time to think that this was an absurd blasphemy before collapsing once again into a heap of soggy fur, except this time it was involuntary and resulted in unconsciousness.


Danu was well overhead by the time the hybrid awoke, head pounding and joints aching. She managed to stand on shaky knees, running her hands over her long, thick fur, trying to remove some of the salt that had crusted there and which was beginning to itch quite madly. Bringing her knuckles to her eyes, she proceeded to remove the crustiness from them, and blinked blearily. To her left was the water from whence she had just come; to her right, a forest of trees which looked cool, dark and welcoming. There was probably water -- fresh water -- in there somewhere, she thought, and with this thought came the realization of exactly how parched she was. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Eugh.


Her tall, willowy form moved exactly two-point-six-five steps in the direction of the trees before it stopped short, as surely as she'd hit an invisible wall. She knew the scent of a tribe when she smelled one, and boy was the area saturated with it. She probably would have realized this earlier had it not been for the exhaustion preceded by unconsciousness preceded by exhaustion. Great. She let out a frustrated half-snarl-half-whimper, and turned to look for a way around the scent-marker. She let out a disbelieving woof at what she saw, which turned into a chuckle, which soon degenerated into half-mad cackles. Not a hundred yards down the shoreline from where she had scaled the drop-off to the sea, the cliffs mellowed into shallow, rocky beaches, where one might, instead of killing oneself trying to become the world's first shaman-cum-rock-climber, simply stroll from the lapping waves of the sea right up onto dry land.

Cerridwyn hid her face in her hands, taking deep, calming breaths, trying to stifle the lunatic laughter coming from her throat. Danu didn't hate her, Danu wasn't laughing at her (well, maybe a little bit), Danu wasn't trying to ensure she went mad before her fifth birthday. She hoped. It had been a test, that was all, there was a reason that she had washed up in just that spot and not a hundred yards down the coastline where she could have easily walked onto shore instead of almost breaking her neck scaling the side of a Danu-cursed cliff. There was a lesson to be learned here. Somewhere. Eventually, Cerridwyn would figure out what it was. Until then, she had to focus on her basic needs, like finding water, some shelter, maybe a way to dry off because holy Tuatha it was cold, why did she just now realize how friggin' cold she was? One more deep breath, and she took a step toward the sloping shoreline -- hopefully, she'd be able to find a way around this claimed territory before being noticed, as she was in no shape to deal with any miffed wolves who might come upon her -- "Who are you?" Crap.


She turned, and her brown eyes widened in their charcoal mask as they fell upon the annoyed one. He stood at her height. She barely noticed his earth-colored coat, his multitude of battle scars, his one green eye, the odd garments he covered himself with. This was all overpowered by the simple fact that he was standing on two legs. It wasn't as though she'd never seen a shifter; she herself was standing on two legs as well, after all. It was just that she'd never seen another one besides herself. She had been an anomaly all her life, at first feared and then almost worshiped for her ability to change forms. She would be lying if she tried to say that her first thought, after surprise and awe, wasn't a little disappointed. It kind of sucked to be shown that you weren't blessed with Danu-bestowed unique powers, after all.


"You..." It was barely a whisper, one apparently unheard by this other animal, as he repeated himself, this time a little calmer and more gracious, if with quite the odd accent. Cerridwyn, while she might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, was pretty observant when it came to reading others, and it was obvious that the scarred one -- probably the tribal chief, from the way he carried himself -- was not shocked to see another bipedal, at least no more than he would have been to encounter any other wolf intruding on his lands. Okay, let's play it cool, then, she thought to herself. Either this one is some kind of half-god and communicates with the divine much better than I do, or, Danu help me, there are lots of shifters about in the area. She almost whimpered again at the thought -- she'd never used the word "shifter" in plural before -- but managed to control herself. "What do you want here?"


She swallowed with some effort, trying to find any moisture that might allow her mouth to form words. "I... sorry," she said, Irish lilt coloring her words. M'name's Cerridwyn. I don't... I warshed oop on shore, well, climbed oop on shore, didna mean t'intrude. Was jus' lookin' fer a way 'round, actu'lly, t'find some water or sumfin, git m'bearins, y'ken." Oh, my, we were rambly today, weren't we? Well, she was nervous. As almost an afterthought, the tri-color collie mix ducked her head in a belated show of respect. She was used to others doing so for her, after all -- she'd never had to grovel for anyone, and wasn't sure she'd actually be able to.