We Can Be (Almost Anything)
#8
Arye kept her eyes forward as her feet flew across the gritty sand. She felt that her feet barely touched the beach as she tried to beat Pripyat to the water. Despite her head start, Pripyat overcame her within the last stretch of their race. Before she knew it, he had whisked her into the air just before they tumbled together into the blue of the waves. She let out of whoop of laughter before she blinked the salty water out of her eyes, seeking the blue of Pripyat's oceanic orbitals.

She ran a hand through her sodden hair, pushing it out of her face and shaking sand from her mane as she did so. She noticed that her face as well as his own were smeared in sand from the waves. The cream colored girl smiled, her eyes wrinkling around the edges. She reached to brush some sand from his muzzle, her traveling fingers coming into contact with the corner of his mouth. She dropped her hand after that, her honey colored eyes filled with warmth as her stomach fluttered strangely. "Yes, we both win," she agreed.

She rose from their place in the waves, shaking herself a bit as she did so, salty drops flying from her creamy coat. Then she extended her hand to Pripyat, offering him a hand up. "How do you fish in the ocean?" Arye asked curiously. It must be very different from fishing in a stream or pond.


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