09-08-2012, 01:02 AM
Black River Reserve. 9/11 ish?
[html]
[html]
Lynx knew rain was on its way the moment she woke up, and she couldn't resist leaving her cottage in Jordheim to explore in the warm rainfall. But what she had expected to be a peaceful storm had turned violent just as she reached a beautiful salt marsh with golden dunes in the distance. While the cutting wind and rain tore the gentle place apart, the female fled into the forest for cover.[/html]
There she rested against a tree and listened calmly to the fury of the gods, thinking she was glad that no one ever depended on her to forecast the weather. After little more than an hour had passed the downpour came to an end, sunlight began to reappear, and Lynx left the cover of the forest for her main interest, the dunes.
The sandy hills were now misshapen where the storm had swirled and punctured them. There were many storms in Norway, but all were winter snowstorms. Still, the similarities between disheveled snowdrifts and the dunes before her were striking. Approaching the dunes, the pointed wolf smiled in awe and reached to the warm, damp sand. The small clump of sand broke through her dark fingers as she looked up at the dune's crest.
Her ears pricked suddenly. A noise was coming from the other side. Barking, like the sounds which dogs made, but somehow very different -- an entire chorus of rough voices. Lynx started carefully up the dune, sometimes using her hands and claws to keep her balance. The climb was fun, but she completely forgot about it once she stood at the top of the dune. The tattooed woman inhaled sharply as she beheld the strangest creatures she had ever seen, barking on the seashore.