heat seeker

Nosing through foliage sprouting up from the base of an odd stone structure, the Aeris male found himself wondering how much of this shit he could sell. If he could string together enough sturdy logs, he could get a functional raft across the span between here and the mainland. He was a strong enough swimmer, provided the weather didn't turn against him. Magenta gaze turned skyward, scrutinizing the pale cerulean vastness overhead. There were hardly any clouds, and there wasn't too much in the way of wind. He could probably make that work. Attention turned to the small pile of useful bits and bobs he'd been accumulating as he foraged through the nooks and crannies. A few intact bottles, dull blades that could be fixed up by even a shit tier blacksmith. He was sure he could get his hands on some useful goods to get him through the winter, and perhaps even some tinctures or salves if he found the right crowd.

Shifting gears from the beat up crap he'd been collecting, he decided to take a break to hunt down a few hunks of driftwood. If it floated here, it could float to the mainland. The seawater tended to smooth it out well enough anyways, and he wouldn't have to break a million tiny branches off the things to drag them together along the beach. Broad paws carried him along the edge of the surf, brilliant gaze roaming the waterline for debris. He didn't need anything gigantic, because he was still going to have to drag it across the water until he hit the coast on the other side. The first solid chunk he found, he wedged the tips of his tusks and fangs into, and pulled along the sand until he was close enough to where he'd started. There, that was already a good starting point. Carefully, he checked his surroundings to see if there were any other good candidates. Sure enough, another hefty chunk of pale wood bobbed near the edge of the surf, just shy of washing up entirely. Perfect. Gripping the cracked edge where it must have broken from the main trunk, he backpedalled across the sand until he could drop it beside the first. The routine of collecting wood was simple, and monotonous. Soon enough, the repetition became mechanical, and he was lulled into a single minded focus that dragged him from one edge of the beach to the other.

With a none too small pile of driftwood gathered at the edge of the beach, he shook the exertion from his muscles. Time to get back to the matter at hand, with that all out of the way. He was certain he'd caught a glimpse of something shiny further into one of the wooden shacks, and was curious to see what it would reveal itself to be. As he closed in on the shack, however, he realized that it was going to be more of a chore than gathering raft materials. The door was stuck fast, and the wood had warped in a way that the frame was wedged into place. He growled to himself, but now that he had it in his mind that he wanted in, he wasn't going to be deterred. Rearing back on his hind legs, he slammed his forepaws against the weathered wood of the door with all of his bulk behind the blow. It splintered, and one paw slipped through the gap. "Fuck!" he snarled as the splinters scraped along his forelimb where it had punched through. "No need to get testy," he grunted quietly, a scowl painting itself across his features. Now he had to work at making a gap big enough to squeeze through. This is where the curved tusks arching up and back from his lower jaw came in handy, breaking apart and clearing the ancient, half rotted wood. Chunks that proved too large to clear away with his tusks were grasped carefully in his teeth to avoid splinters in his tongue, and he found himself falling into the same mechanical rhythm as before.