5/3/2025, 5:29 PM
saila walks a half-step behind, her breath steady, the rhythm of her paws silent over loam and stone. she watches the way he moves ahead, shoulders dark and damp beneath the sealhide, broad enough to carry their wealth and still walk proud.
she’d offered once to help carry it. once.
he hadn’t answered, only shifted the weight more securely and kept walking.
so she let him. she hadn't understood the true courting process of seal men and women. she had been separated from her mother too late upon her womanhood, but she carried with her the traditions she had once known. but he made no move of them, and for that— she had been grateful. she'd wish to set up a home.
she follows the scent of salt and something else— a feeling almost ancestral. every step southward tugs something in her chest, a compass she hadn’t known she carried until now.
they are looking for the others. the seal-born. the women who still know the sacred rites. the men who earned their scars.
and as the cove yawns open before them, the wind rushing like a greeting, saila halts at its lip.
her voice cracks as it breaks through their silence, tethered by something feasible to shatter.
nose to the breeze, she steps forward to join him, eyes sweeping the shore.
she’d offered once to help carry it. once.
he hadn’t answered, only shifted the weight more securely and kept walking.
so she let him. she hadn't understood the true courting process of seal men and women. she had been separated from her mother too late upon her womanhood, but she carried with her the traditions she had once known. but he made no move of them, and for that— she had been grateful. she'd wish to set up a home.
she follows the scent of salt and something else— a feeling almost ancestral. every step southward tugs something in her chest, a compass she hadn’t known she carried until now.
they are looking for the others. the seal-born. the women who still know the sacred rites. the men who earned their scars.
and as the cove yawns open before them, the wind rushing like a greeting, saila halts at its lip.
her voice cracks as it breaks through their silence, tethered by something feasible to shatter.
they were here. some time ago.
nose to the breeze, she steps forward to join him, eyes sweeping the shore.
we’ll find them. or they’ll find us.