mom's dear old friend!

Clutching the rock and feather in her mouth, Makara skittered on home. The surrounding lands seemed to fly by until she hit the cove and the sand proved a trickier beast. Her booties were great for the cold, snowy drifts - not so excellent for traversing the sands. She slowed her pace to stop slipping and found a nice spot to settle underneath an old palm tree and call her father. The tide was out, the water line now far away down the beach lapping idly at the shore. This was her favorite time of day. That hard packed sand down by the shoreline was the best ground for racing, not nearly as much give as the sandy upper portion of the beach that was untouched by the ocean's waves.

Summer sun finally cut through the clouds, bright and oppressive. Makara sidled closer to the shade of the palm and out of its rays. She carefully placed by her paws the lava rock Sparrow had selected (unbeknownst to her, for its similarities to a rock the pirate King had once given her mother) and the spare feather from the pirate hat. Mak took a moment to admire the goodies - she was particularly fond of the feather - before calling out for her father. Hopefully he would attend to her - she didn't make a habit of calling on him, especially now with his new duties as Warlord. In fact, Mak had done her very best to keep out of his way. But surely he'd want to hear news of an old friend reaching out! Foolishly, perhaps, Mak considered any friend of Hanako's a friend of her father's, when she couldn't be further from the truth.