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Date: 14 AugTime: Night Words: 436 |
(325)
She was on the edge of the world, at the ends of the earth itself. Before her, the bay stretched forward as far as her eyes could see. She knew there were lands across the waters -- she had walked upon them, after all -- but she could not see them. She saw only water, black as onyx. The strange coast of Salsola was foreboding, rock faces looming up at impossible heights from the waters. These were not sandy, kindly beaches where one might sunbathe. In the night, the Salsolian coast seemed even more dangerous than in the day. Though they had been besieged by fog for most of the day, at least there had been light to play upon the water.
She had not desired this land for its beauty, however. Though Salsola's claim did have its sharp ruggedness, a beauty of its own sort, she had desired this land for its isolation, its position. They could cross these waters, and end up on the mainlands -- either of them. She could loop around Inferni from the water, if only they had boats. They were tucked into their own corner, however, and none of the other packs seemed to be avid seafarers -- she had nothing to fear from an attack on Salsola's beaches. Even if the other groups did have boats of their own, Salsola's harsh coastline would prove difficult to attack.
Seated on her haunches, the hybrid pondered these things, forcibly turning her attention away from her children. They were joy and curse both -- there were four gorgeous youths, daughters who would grow to be strong and proud and all she could imagine. But there was one more, one dark cloud hanging over her sun. Shibboleth would not live to see adulthood, she thought -- Shibboleth was lucky to breathe, still. Though the coyote attempted to yank her thoughts away from her children and Shibboleth in particular, they drifted continually back to that subject.
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