Sandcastles
08-05-2013, 07:45 AM
Cut me loose
My parachute won't let me fall Don't be afraid of a chance for a miracle
As of late Orica had been spending plenty of time traveling with her cousin Cross - going off foraging for herbs even as far as the Valhallan borders, but she also spent plenty of time at home too. Home being wherever her family was. She liked the cove. It was one of the warmest corners of the north, and espically come summer, the water was wonderful for a swim. The many colored cliffs rose up behind her, with their greenery spilling over the top, but upon the sand Orica hesitated. Letting the frothy little waves lap at her paws was one thing, but actually wading in deep or swimming around - that was something else. A gentle day like this was perfect for starting to learn, but she decided to take her time. After all there was so much to do among the sands! She wasn't quite as far down as the tidal pools that teamed with life, but even up here she could spend hours of entertainment. She could hide in the dunegrass and try to catch seagulls. She could wait by the tideline and dig up sand crabs for a snack. Or she could do one of her favorite pasttimes: collecting sea shells. This far north there were more black and white oyster shells than anything else, but there were also the occasional limpet or cool stone or bunch of seaweed. Low tide here was strong enough to pull all sorts of things in - sometimes even big fish. But so far there was nothing like that today. Orica skipped in and out of the ever changing water line, having to be quick in dipping her head to snatch up shells - not wanted some white breaker to foam over her while she wasn't looking. It was a wonderful game - a nice change to her usual hunting for herbs. And the best part? Because she had her leather medic's bag, she could save some of the best ones - and then dig a hole and bury the rest like treasure. The only thing that would make this better is if she had someone to play with. She considered asking Cross - he'd told her he was always on call if she needed a companion, but he was a bodyguard, he wasn't a playmate. Leaving her leather sack well above the reach of the waves, Orica turned round and started running for the caves, sending up sprays of sand and leaping over the occasional black cropping of rock. On the sea breeze came the scent of a wolf she knew quite well. It was her sister! "Avalon!" Orica called, peering about, "Come play with me! The beach is beautiful today!" |