FOLKLORE


[ AW ] another horizon.
#1

there's bravery in being soft

Eden crosses from one beach to the next, the change in footing coming without much fanfare. A splash through the shallows, moving through the water with ease. Maybe she'd find something to eat soon. The day was young, but the hunger from her long swim was setting in. Salt water clung to her fur, the scent of fish and shellfish coming with it. There had been worse days, but catching something more adept at swimming than she seemed like a daunting task.

But the hunger couldn't be staved for long. Eden moved up the beach, looking for areas where the low tide would leave water. Tide pools. With keen eyes, the creature moves from one to another, looking for any gift the ocean has left behind. Something she'd know how to eat would be ideal, really. Some of the shellfish were... questionable.

And then she sees it. Eden's eyes light up, a sort of softness and delight filling her face. She picks up a jog, a trot, a giggle in her throat. A fish! It wasn't huge, but would make a decent meal. Eden pounces with both of her feet into the next tide pool, scooping up the fish in her jaws and taking a clean munch. Salty, with a mouth of half warm seawater, but delicious. Good for breakfast.

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#2

ZAHIRA SALVATORÉ



Delicate paws had brought the woman to the beach. The very beach that held such memories for her. It brought a curl to her tail, and a smile to her lips, warmth touching the icy hue of her eyes. The Salvatorè woman spent some time walking, paws touching the waves, leaving prints in the sand that would be washed away in the steady beat of a heart. Zahira felt a calmness.
 
Her life had changed for the better on this very beach, she’d found her beloved brother after she had gone on a hunt for a ghost that had never truly existed for a year. She had found true happiness here, and it would always hold a special place in her heart. She found a rock protruding from the sand and pulled herself up onto it. She resided there for some time, content, enjoying the sound of the waves, the salty spray, the sun, and the memories.
 
Movement caught her attention.
 
She watched the figure of another wolf as they moved from tidepool to tidepool, looking in each with a thoroughness that prompted Zahira to believe that perhaps they were looking for something caught in the pools to eat. Suddenly, the other launched into one of the pools, and with the movement, a flash of silver danced before ice. She waited until the other fully had the fish in their jaws, its thin body limp, before she called out:
 
“Good catch!”

“I am speaking”


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