[AW] Hold on to what means the most
Shattered Coast
Priscilla and Harley had often times wandered, together, but today was a tad different. Ever since their family grew larger, the Fisher was hardly surrounding herself with Harley, and the dogish femme had to basically drag the little weasel out-- kicking and screaming. Many times she would beg her to go fishing, it would seem their time together was changing, however; not in the ways she had hoped.

So there she sat upon Harley's secui shoulders, pouting like a little child. Jostling the animal, Harley gave a little snort, and then walked onwards a little further. 

Pricilla, still ignoring her, turned her head up towards the wind. 

It smelt of the saltiness from the seas, enough herbs and vegetation, giving way to the bite in the already somewhat bitter airs. As Summer gave way to Autumn, the changing of the temperatures and leaves, allowed the hybrid to travel more freely, and frequently. 

Full bellies, content with their living situations, Harley jostled her once more upon her shoulder blades. Being met with sharp claws, the female let out a loose hiss and took off at a run. 

It didnt take very long for the Lupreci to reach the shorelines of the coast, before she panted, and stopped. Hesitantly, Pricilla clambered off and Harley finally directed her words to the Fisher. 

"What's wrong with ya anyways?" Concer was barely etched into her tone, but it was evident enough to make the Fisher hiss and glance up at her. Something was happening, and the elder female wasnt sure how to approach the situation. 
harley and pricilla are kinda just chillin on the beach
The wolf's lope carried him across familiar trails, traveling at a steady, tireless pace. He often covered miles upon miles each day – sometimes simply scouting, other times looking for prey. Oberyn and his mate hunted together, and sometimes with the others. At the very least no one ever went truly hungry, and this pleased him. It wasn't exactly what he had hoped for, but it was better than it had been before.

On this day, with the sky clear and the wind blowing, Oberyn merely explored. While the days had a way of blurring together, they were never exactly the same.

He found two familiar figures on the coastline. The larger of the two was the most obvious, standing out due to the color of her fur. Harley was the lightest of the group by far, though her gray fur was marred by dark patches that set her apart from the rest of the more wolfish collective. Her stub tail was the most obvious sign of this, though Oberyn was getting more used to the sight. From his distance, he could make out the dark form of the weasel – fisher, he corrected himself – skittering about in the sand.

Hailing them with a wuff of greeting, Oberyn trotted closer and came to a halt near Harley. He greeted her in a friendly manner, nudging his nose forward and wagging his tail. Unlike his stone-faced mate, Oberyn did not need to display dominance all the time.

“Nice day to be down here, eh?” He asked as he turned his face towards the sea.

Priscilla had appeared somewhat distraught, little ears folding back and forth upon her cranium. A woofing sound came to Harley's ears, it was the Fisher who turned first, giving Miater Oby a rather hesitant, low, purring growl in return. It sounded more like a chuff, to which Harley, too, gave an equally excited wuff, tail beginning to wag.

Long nose reached out towards her, in which Harley happily accepted. Her shorter muzzle met his with a small nuzzle on the side of his cheek, ears pricking and tail wagging faster, stumpy little thing swinging too and fro. Priscilla took this opportunity to shift on her feet and clamber atop her friend.

"Oberyn take walk?" The Fisher had hardly spoken to their pseudo "leader" of their little group, but as she did, Harley could feel her heart thumping heavily into her chest. It truly was beautiful, watching the female Fisher become closer with others' including that of her boys. The boys. She reminded herself.

"It is. We were just getting ready to walk on the beach." While there was some underlying reasoning the dog wouldn't bore her wold friend with the vivacious details. "How is Makwaikwe fairing?" Shifting so her feet now faced the ocean.  Waves could be heard crashing in the distance, the smell of the saltiness, and taste, causing some sort of serendipity to flutter in her belly. What was there to talk about? Perhaps a permanent location? "Has there been a decision," Pausing, she turned to face him now, Priscilla skittering across the sandy, rocky, lands like a demon, "about a more permanent location?" It was so strange to tie in "our" with anything, so she left it out of the vocabulary. For now anyways.
Their greetings finished, Oberyn peered up at the sable-colored animal and found himself a little surprised it – she – had spoken to him. He had known plenty of cats and been around horses in his youth, but while in the north there had been no time for companions or pets like these. This animal would have been a risk to their food supplies, or their puppies. The clan would not have allowed it to live among them.

One day, perhaps, he'd see a reason for it sticking around as it did. Harley liked Priscilla well enough, and for her sake, Oberyn accepted the fisher too.

“I'll join you two,” he said with a smile. “The sand feels good when it's not too hot.” During the high point of summer it could become unbearable to step on, just as some of the peculiar black rock roads were. With autumn fast approaching and the return of cloudy days, the beach no longer burnt his paws. If anything, the warmth it captured provided a nice sensation after many days of roaming through damp woodland.

“She is well, thank you for asking. The hunting has been good, and we haven't had any trouble recently.” None at all, he thought, since the cougar.

Taking her question as a cue, Oberyn made his way down towards the coastline. He sank into the softest parts of the sand due to his weight and quickly moved closer to the surf, where the ground became more compact and solid. The wind whipped at his fur, tugging away loose bits and filling his nose with the smell of salt, and a fishy-brine he always identified as sea.

“There are some options,” he told Harley as she fell into step with him. Though the waves continued to roll in, they were not loud enough to drown out their voices. “There's one that I really like, though – it's between the big and the little lake, up in the forest. We wouldn't be so deep in that we couldn't access the coast easily, and it still puts a lot of space between us and the traders. Same with the pack,” he added. “I can show it to you sometime. There are some big trees down in the area, so we don't have to worry about any more falling, but we'll probably have to dig our own dens,” Oberyn went on. “Regardless, we'll have to decide before the ground gets too cold.”

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