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Date: 18 SeptTime: Midday Words: 339 |
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Arisiag Shoal |
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The areas north of Salsola were not very well known to the sable auxiliary. Much of her time since founding the pack had been spent preparing, birthing, and raising her children -- there had been little time for silly exploratory ventures. Now, however, her children were of an age to be left with others. They did not require her every second of every day, and they had ceased such dire need some weeks ago. Still, she had remained hovering over them a bit longer than was appropriate, and even now forced herself to trek north, intending to spend the day away from Salsola.
Eris wished desperately to forget her dead daughter, but she knew she could not. To forget was to lose whatever lesson had been gleaned from the process, that still-convoluted idea she hoped solitude would bring to full realization. Perhaps if she lost herself for a while in this forgotten corner of the realm, she would realize what she was meant to learn with Shibboleth's death. Even as the hybrid stalked had northward and headed for the mountains and beyond, there was no apparent sorrow in her movement. Her coal-black head was thrust to the sky, utterly defiant to the idea that she ought to be in mourning.
Now, she had crested those mountains, and stared wonderingly at the expanse of shoreline before her. This area was quite nearly -- if not more -- as protected as Salsola with its river border. The mountains, low-slung and hunkering they were, provided a natural boundary like the Pictou did. The shoreline here seemed more gentle than the one on their bay side, which was strange to Eris -- the bays were not generally quite so ferocious as the oceans, let alone more so. Eris had meandered down a rolling, gentle incline toward the beach, and now sat staring in wonder at the ocean and the faintly visible, strange land across it. She did not think it was possible to swim, but she did not desire to run away forever.
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