The cinnamon femme had risen before the sun as she did habitually. As a huntress she had learned to rise early to reach the early morning feeding grounds of game before they awoke with the dawn. This morning, like so many others she had no plan for the day. Usually she would wait for the others to rise and assist them with whatever was their goal for the day whether it was foraging, tending the orchard or hunting, but if the other inhabitants of the cider house had no plans then she would wander. A sigh escaped her lips as she wondered. Was this really how her life was meant to go on? She did not regret living with Oak, his family and the others that called Berwick home, but there was no real structure. For a girl raised in the rigors of high society, though she abhorred it so, this inconsistent day to day living threatened to drive her mad.
Her thoughts would have continued on this downward trend had not a shift in the wind distracted her. Oak! His scent was close, coming from the north. Where was he going? He wasn't that far ahead of her so perhaps she could follow and see. Truth be told she had not interacted with the russet male as much in the recent week as she had in the past, after their sparring match. She felt so embarrassed that she had knocked him unconscious. She hadn't meant to strike him so harshly, but nevertheless her forearm had cracked him in the side of the head with sufficient force to leave him lying flat out on the ground. It had only been the second blow thrown in the match. When he had come to she had explained what had happened and the russet male had just laughed. She had just wanted to cry, a rare emotional outburst from the Calidus girl. She could have hurt her best friend in these lands and she would never have forgiven herself. Of course, she hadn't and the two of them had parted ways that day and exchanged the occasional greetings and small talk in the days after, but no really meaningful encounters as were usual.
Today would be different. Wearing her blouse tied up to sit just below her chest, revealing her midriff, and her skirt with none of her weapons or armor the girl felt uncharacteristically vulnerable, but if she turned back to grab her sword Oak might get too far ahead to make following him feasible. So the mahogany maned wolfess left her blade, bow and quiver behind, slender form floating across the orchard to follow behind the male who was already long out of sight, his scent the only clue to his direction. North had been his direction so for the next couple hours Cassia followed his trail north. The familiar scent of salt, the sound of the surf brought a smile to her lips as she neared the coast. At the edge of the beach the cinnamon girl paused, her sea green eyes quickly finding the russet form of her friend. Calmly she strode forward, hands clasped behind her back casually, to stand beside the male. The ocean breeze whipped her long mane behind her. Her mane, stretching down to just above her tail was quite the sight to see blowing behind her. Standing beside her friend, she watched him as he appeared lost in thought. "What troubles you, Oak?" she queried, her hands fiddling with the knot tied in her blouse to hold it up higher. It had not taken long for Cassia to see the thoughtful expression of her dear friend. She had known him long enough to feel confident that something bothered him. [/html]