I'm Not a Cynic

It had been a few weeks since they’d arrived and, other than her brief encounter with Scully, she and her band had seen neither head nor tail of the runaway Hervok-Archer child. She was feeling a bit disgruntled, to say the very least, and so she decided to look at yet another new area. Past the delta where she’d encountered the dark Archer was a quiet bay, the ground much sturdier and clean that the muddy delta that threatened to swallow her legs whole. She disliked it as much as she did the first time, but it was a necessary evil to pass through to get to the bay.

Once she’d arrived she paused to look around, sandy mud dripping from her underbelly and making her skin itch. The water, lapping softly at the shore, called to her and she obliged, stepping into the cooling waters and creating small white peaks as the waves curled around her venturing body. Once she was in deep enough that her back was almost covered, she paused and allowed the current to pull at her fur, carrying away the dirt and muck that clung to her. It felt good, the water was chillier now that the temperature was starting to decent with the coming winter. A hum escaped her throat and her persian blue gaze closed as she chose to relax for a moment.