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destroy, she said
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Set in Drifter Bay.
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The sun had risen and fallen another two times before Wintersea had felt up to travel. She’s spent most of this time hidden amongst the sunflowers as a lupus, snapping up any and every bird that dared not notice her. Her strength was slowly returning, and the snow-furred loner became satisfied that she’d found a land, perhaps bountiful enough to return to her former glory. The previous night, she’d found her old rib scars dry enough to unveil and she had took precious time to removes her bandages and give the scars, gray with seawater, a chance to breathe and return to their normal salmon-pink hue.
Having left her book and unneeded supplies buried beside a tree at Sunflower Sunsets, she began the winded lope back to the bay; she stopped only to drink at a river that cut through the nameless territory before charging on her way on all fours. When she could hear the ocean, she shifted, standing on two legs so that she could get a better vantage point amongst the dunes and boulders that stretched for miles in either direction as the bay swayed back and forth, unrestrained against the beach.
The wind blew back her hair, and the tall, slender white hybrid seemed misplaced. The water certainly seemed to be her scene, but the frigidness of her posture perhaps suggested that she should be near the freezing, Atlantic waters, rather than the merely chilly Bay of Fundy. She wore nothing but a simple garter upon her thigh, clasping her throwing knife — being without cover never seemed to bother the naturally wild woman. She crouched and began sifting amongst the driftwood and seashells, possibly thinking about what to collect and craft for her survival. Resources were pertinent to it.
| | table by magic mushroom. [/html]
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