Aftermath [open]
Feb 1, 2015 2:20:21 GMT -5
Post by Zii on Feb 1, 2015 2:20:21 GMT -5
602 // open invite
The wind had finally died down. Through the forest, the whistling ceased. Had the floor around his paws not been sopping wet, the dog might have forgotten the turmoil that the ocean storms had thrown at his beloved forest. That same aftermath made each shuffle difficult as he high-stepped through the sludge of rain water and decaying foliage. Yanking a hind foot out of the mud with a plop, the dalmatian growled under his breath and leaped up onto a fallen log. A dryer surface to tread made his life easier for the short time it took him to traverse the length of the dilapidated tree. With a huff, he hopped back to the forest floor but his sour mood lifted when his paws found the soft bracken as a stable place to stand. A quick look ahead showed none of the mud that had sullied his legs and killed his humor.
Dace picked up speed now. In a short time, he padded from the tree line with his head held high. Now free from the canopy, he blinked into the sunlight. The stray would have been lying to himself if he said the warmth didn't feel good on his cool skin. Having such a thin coat had made the hurricane that much more unbearable. If not for his herb stores and the crude den he had scratched out from the roots of a gnarled old oak, he wondered if he would have made it through in one piece. Surely his sanity wouldn't have remained intact.
Despite the warm sunlight, it was obvious that winter was fast approaching. His nose sucked in the ocean air that wafted across the beach. The tang of brine made it itch, and he gave a little sneeze. Bringing a dirty paw up to brush his nose, he wiggled it with disgust at the mud that stuck to his muzzle instead. He felt vile. It was silly to him; that feeling of being a vile dog standing haphazardly half on the beach and half in the forest. Who did he have to impress? He was the only mongrel here. Probably the only idiot foolish enough to brave the beach after the mess the sea had caused.
He lifted a lip, revealing a canine, and walked out from the trees. His paws found the coarse sand and he flinched at the grit that bit between his toes. Even so, the dog kept onward toward the surf. He stepped right up to the sea, ignoring the cool wind that now hit him in the face, and bent down to dip his muzzle into the water. Shaking his head back and forth to clean off his snout, he kept his teeth clenched for fear of swallowing the saltwater. When the dalmatian lifted his jaws out of the ocean, he sprayed water droplets across the shallows with a short.
Without missing a beat, he stepped right into the water and let it freeze his legs. It took some scrubbing with his paws to get most of the mud and dead ferns off his spotted fur, but well worth the trouble when he left the sea feeling better about himself.
He found a large bundle of driftwood farther up the beach and sprawled across it, letting a front paw dangle an inch from the sand. As much as he wanted to lick his legs to warm them, the threat of nasty ocean water overpowered the wish to be comfortable. Instead, the dog waited for the sunlight to start recharging his bones and rested his head on a smooth branch with a sigh.