Chin up, I can't,

The smell of the ocean was upon her nose, even when she was within Sundance Grove could Miriam faintly tell of the breeze of salt once she got her bearings. Though never once did she see the ocean, much less smell ; so it remained umfamliar. But she heard stories from sisters and mothers, and even those who traveled out upon coming of age and returning home — the stories they would share and the sights they described, it urged Miriams soul to go out once she too, was of appropriate age. Yet, she knew within her heart unlike the rest.. Miriam would not return home ; and some part of her knew, now within this new land.. That was also an impossible feat.

The Goddess sent her to this land itself, a destiny she knew not yet, nor' would take for granted. She was determined to see all that could be and more, to live and learn and expand knowledge unlike before. Her paws would travel to the unfamiliar smell, and see sights she never before. Though wasn't expecting a blackened land, where the beach itself was as if the night landed to the sands of a river's shore.

A gaze of wonder and starlight twinkle, her paws feeling the sea upon her toes and the stickiness it brought. Everything felt like a regular fresh water place, and yet when her tongue licked, she gagged slightly at the taste, for that was what salt was like. Her claws digging to the sand and felt.. This wasn't truly like a natural breach, for when she gazed beyond to the edges there was the more white and yellow ones she heard of, golden beads forming the shore — but that was distances away as Miriam squinted.

This place held a name that rung to her mind, Raven's Rock, where the sands were black the rocks itself — and even the ravens, where she looked up to see them flying overhead, flying around in a cawing sound.

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Dark sand clung to his feet, his legs, his belly. His forelegs and underside dark from where the ocean’s tide had caught him, its water frothing, foaming, and heaving on deserted shores, wetting and darkening his legs, his belly, his chest where he walked.

The scent of the ocean was strong.

And the scent of the ocean was deep.

The sound of the crashing waves loud.

But not so loud as to cover up the sound of someone fucking gagging.

The fuck?

He followed the direction of the noise.

Followed, the ravens circling in the air, crowing and cawing, diving and swooping.

Watching them.

Eyeing them warily as he crested over the rocky outcrop.

Looking down at the girl that had just fucking gagged from atop the black boulders and stones.

“They saying anything?” He grunted.

His shoulders hunched. His posture slouched.

Defensive.

Thinking, of a certain fucking crow, and a certain fucking asshole.

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How beautiful it all was ; even if covered in dark.. So unusual, as her paws would touch the black sand and even when digging, that is all that there was. The entire land was black ; sand, birds, the rocks — all except herself, and another who stood distances away. He was a dirty blond, in a literal sense she saw a darkening of his fur from an assumed swim and sand clinging, but she wasn't sure, as Miriam squinted to his figure upon the dark rocks.

But what she did see, was his ruby-red eyes. A glistening within this darkened area, contrasting rather beautifully, despite his more.. Angry persona, she so noted. He hunched and had a look that spoke of someone who was fighting the world itself ; and the soothing part of her always assumed if that truly meant he was fighting his own soul, or a trouble was brewing. But Miriam was not a prophet, and would never know. Rather then speaking of problems, he was looking at the crows who swarmed.

She tilted her head curiously, "I'm afraid I don't speak crow," she confessed, "but they look to be hunting then speaking," if only she had that gift.

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He squinted—stared—up at the sky.

Watching, the dark birds circling and swooping—moving—through the sky. Nothing but stark silhouettes against a backdrop of the sun, the horizon, and stretching, lapping, foaming ocean.

He was pretty fucking sure those were ravens, up there.

Not crows.

Right?

Crows were—

Smaller.

And more fucking annoying, if the last crow he had apparently ‘met’ fucking meant anything.

Crows spoke here, fucking, apparently.

He assumed ravens would too.

But then again, he had never fucking thought birds could fucking talk.

Why fucking would they?

They were fucking birds.

He was being fucked with.

He grunted.

His ears folded back against his head, and he looked back down to the girl, fucking purple-grey and soft.

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There was a silence in the air after she answered ; besides the occasional cawing of the ravens, not crows. Miriam didn't realize she mistaken the two at the time and was idly looking back at him with a curious look. But perhaps a slight shy in feeling as she decided to gaze down for a moment, wondering.. Why won't he say anything, and maybe she should say something? Is she being rude right now? Worry, crossed her mind as she gazed about.

There was no scents beside the two, the sea itself. A sickening smell of the ocean, salt in the mix that she couldn't say she particularly liked. Yet itself was a beautiful scene, to look at ; as the water seemed endless in the making.. Albeit, a bit dreary in the blackness that surrounded. Even her own coat seemed to sink into, and only the vibrant of others eyes was a great contrast compared.

"Do you.. Live around here?" she asked, looking back up to the man.

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‘Do you… Live around here?’

“No.” He said.

Staring, watching her, in return.

An ocean breeze, ruffling his fur.

His ear twitching at the sound of a raven’s caw.

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"Oh.." He was someone that was difficult to talk to, that it was hard not to lose heart. She remembered sometimes the more stoic Earls were like so ; like stone itself they were the guardians of the forest, and the more veteran-types tended to remain away from the rest. They did their job of course, but many tended to find themselves within their own company and away from the maidens. A divide was built between males and females, that neither seemed entirely willing to cross, only few — though Miriam didn't question it, it was perhaps a reason their community became very site when it came to children. 

She wouldn't lose heart though, "where do you live?" Miriam asked. He did not smell like the lands she knew around, and as he held none of a pack itself — a loner, but many often claim temporary dens until otherwise. Though, Miriam could also be wrong ; be home away for so long that he lost the scent itself.. So she asked, with that in mind.

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‘Oh…’

He scoffed, at her reaction.

Wondered, pointed and brief, why the fuck she seemed so uncertain and butthurt over what he had said. She was the one that had fucking asked. And he had fucking answered.

No, he didn’t live around here.

Whatever.

He rolled his eyes.

Watched, as the ravens flew. Paid attention to the way some disappeared, dipped down, beyond the horizon, where he couldn’t see, while others rose and took to the sky and settled all again.

He wondered if there was a carcass.

Something that had been pushed ashore or abandoned.

His ear twitched when she spoke again.

He rose a single back leg to scratch just behind it.

“Nowhere.” He grunted.

He lived nowhere.

The ravens dove, then flew again, and—

“See you around, moon-eyes, I got fucking shit to do.” He called. Forward and blunt. Better things to do, rather than entertain some girl’s forlorn questions.

He turned and left, back down the black-rock outcrop.

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He was a loner — one that was in the true sense of a lone wolf as he gave curt answers that were brash, and some may even take offense.. But he didn't hurt her, at the very least, only answered within simplicity. The man with ruby-eyes, mysterious in a fellow that it seemed no matter what she would say, she would not get the answers she so sought and wanted, for a curious mind does not equal one with a knowledge. Though, she was a bit downhearted, as her ears lowered slightly.

Not even a name to be given, but at the very least, she would give one back, "I am Miriam, Miriam Iris Willows, I hope we meet again." Though wouldn't deny if a faint blush by the type of 'moon-eyes,' for nicknames were unfamiliar to the maiden of the orchid. Though do not let it be mistaken for childish love, for it was just someone adjusting to the new world.

At the very least, Miriam hoped to see him again, and just maybe, open his heart a bit. She would like to learn his name.

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