wanted coast to coast

She could still taste his blood on her tongue. How many miles did she have to put between herself and his rotting corpse? How long would her Mother's cries leave this wretched ringing in her ears? Was this some circle of hell, her penance for a righteous crime? Spend the rest of eternity immersed in your sinful act until nothing but your guilt remains. It'd certainly be something the Mad King would concoct, a slow torture made special just for Tetra. The weary youth sighed heavily in defeat, catching the taste of salt and sea-life on her dry lips. A new smell, a new taste that managed to wriggle past her panic stained mind and light a candle of wonder. Mother Dearest once told a story of a wolf cast adrift in a great lake with no end and how he was saved by a mighty beast, bigger than the towering redwoods, that swallowed the wolf whole to carry him safely to shore. Mother Dearest also said it was their beloved God King that sent the whale, a statement Tetra had taken for fact not but a fortnight ago. So, what was truth and what was a lie? Despite the horrors, despite her tattered faith, Tetra found that she wasn't scared of finding out. Now that she was free from Mother Dearest's influence, free from that damned compound, Tetra could truly experience the world. Maybe she had blood on her hands, but surely freedom and life was worth it. Strange sounds perked her ears, and she caught the sight of some white wings along the horizon. Intrigued and eager to escape all thought of before, Tetra summoned the very last of her energy to break into an awkward sprint. The glass beach came into full view as the sun poked his head into the sky, casting Tetra's world in magnificent colors. The endless lake stretched before her, its waves lapping white foam at the shore that she quickly dipped her black paws in. A bark of delight escaped her lips at the strange feeling of bubbles popping against her toes and the cold water that chilled burning pads. The youth danced in the gentle waves like a child seeing snow for the first time, for a moment all her trials and tribulations washed away with the tide. Once the last of her energy fled her bones, the teen dropped in place with a muddy splash, ember orbs cast outwards. "Welp," came her musical voice, heavy and breathy,"looks like the road stops here." "Ad astra per aspera."

Glass Beach. Even the name of it alone brought a shudder to Savard. The common perception among most wolves was that the name of the land came from its reflection pools, meant to give the wary traveler pause as they stared into it. But others had a slightly different opinion; they called it Glass Beach because at a place like that, one had to always be mindful of where they tread, lest they get cut. Locations that were remote like Glass Beach had a propensity of attracting the kinds of transactions not meant for anyone to see. Stuff got done that way, and only those in the know, knew what “stuff” meant. You needed somewhere quiet to meet and exchange goods and services, meet a contact or an associate to work out the details for a job that might piss off the Imperials, or to get rid of something or someone, places like the hidden recesses of Glass Beach were appealing. It was ironic, that those who would live nearby for their entire lives, they knew about as much about this place as a common tourist would.

For a certain timber male, one whose life used to revolve around quiet, out of the ways places like these waters could be at times, he had a hard time seeing them as anywhere but a backdrop. Slowly, though, he came to appreciate Glass Beach the way others did, as a place of meditation. To be quite frank, after his time in school—by school, of course, one did not mean the College—he hadn’t been to this place very frequently. It’s not like Savard was a sentimental type anyhow, and with all that had gone down over the years, very little was worth remembering. Sitting down on his haunches, the male took the time to stare into the water, and see the wolf looking back at him. There was a time a more youthful face looked at the waters, waiting impatiently for a wolf to show his face. From there, the duo would go down to Sussex, find a wolf who frequented the Drunken Seagull, and… ensure his cooperation in making sure he delivered the goods, or else lose a paw. But now… all of that was a fading, half-erased memory, of a life left far behind.

The quiet of the moment, of course, was spoiled by some unexpected commotion. Looking up from his hypnosis, Savard spotted a wolf booking into the outermost waves of the beach, seeming to have no interest in self-reflection. The black and brown youngster practically threw herself into the water, and enjoyed every moment and sensation that accompanied it. She seemed to carefree about it, giving no thought to how easy it was for her to be noticed by those who liked the place for tis quietness. Tourists, they could be so obnoxious. But, Savard wasn’t annoyed by it, he didn’t have the final say on who could be and do what where. In fact… maybe it gave him something to think about, if he could have ever been as happy to remember this place the way this kid would. Without thinking, the male got up, and made his way over to the shoreline, and thought it proper to make conversation with this tourist. “First time here,” he asked suddenly, perhaps without thinking it all the way through, as he should have.

Banshee

From within the thick layer of heat that distorts the horizon, a white wolf appears, her cheeks streaked with tears. She does not yet see you, yet her wails send chills racing down your spine.It is difficult to tell if she is real... and perhaps it is best to leave her to her grief.


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