sold out for the shape of the palm tree scene

They’d left without her. How dare? How absolute dare. All of the pups her age, or something like her age, already exploring whatever strange happenings had befallen them. They’re all gone, and they had the audacity to leave her back at the tree. In a huff, Mercy makes hasty preparations. Grabbing the first weapon she can find and taking one of her father’s companions in her wake, she rushes out the door into the red morning.

Following Pythia’s scent, hoping to come across the girl on her way, she trudges south. Gaze burning, though the walk does something to soothe her seething. There are more pressing things than worrying about her hurt feelings, but they’re still hurt, damnit.

Arriving at the shore with tired legs and a still pretty rough attitude, she takes the time to look. To assess. To figure out her next move, as she investigates the scars ripped into the land. They looked fresh, with churned up dirt all around them. Paws careful on the squishy ground, it’s more silty here— like in the Estuary. Weird. She’s still pretty far inland. What does it all mean?

"speech"