Post by Banks on Nov 19, 2014 1:34:01 GMT -5
She hated the ocean.
As she floated along, tiring of paddling but doing enough to keep her afloat, she felt as if she’d been staring at the island before her for hours—which was probably because it had been hours. Banks was internally screaming curses, her body aching from the prolonged exposure to the cold water and the sensation of weightlessness. She knew better than to expend what little energy she had left in attempting to get to shore when she was already drifting there slowly.
With an emphasis on slowly, she complained to herself. The sands before her looked soft and warm, and in her mind’s eye, she would roll around in them until she became a sand ball. Maybe she’d bury herself in sand and have to claw out pitifully like one of the baby turtles in the morning. She laughed to herself, a few giggles escaping her lips audibly.
Not like there was anyone around to hear it. It hadn’t been so long that she had been swimming, and she’d been training for this for a few months anyway. She knew what to do, and how to tread the water so well she could practically sleep in the water. She was coming closer to the sandy shore, though—on her right she observed a kind of sand inlet that housed some of the bluest water she’d ever seen. An odd object that looked like some sort of a floatation tree rested inside it, and her heart swelled with curiosity and excitement. To her right there was a cliffside with a forest up above, and she had passed a smaller island, but hadn’t been able to direct herself that way. The tides here were so strong that she could hardly direct herself anywhere. She could have fallen at the feet of gods she didn’t believe in for the fact that she was headed towards a beach and not the cliffs.
And that was all it took. She felt the undertow tug at her fur first, begging to grasp her tail and limbs like the tendrils of a monster, and she took a deep breath. Banks knew what was coming. She squeezed her eyes shut in a scowl, and didn’t even have time to utter an expletive before the sea ripped her downwards. The female just focused on not breathing through the tumbling. Calm, calm, calm, she repeated. In her practice, she knew that panic would just bring about her untimely death, in case it wasn’t already imminent.
It wasn’t long before she crashed into a rocky outcropping, tossed about like a ragdoll by the power of the sea. She brushed past several of what looked like volcanic remnants before the current lost its power in the upsets and deposited her neatly atop a jagged surface. The Timber and Grey blooded creature looked about, frantic for a moment, trying to make sense of where the rocks came from. It was only then that she realized that the current must graze around the side of that inlet and then curve around to go back out to sea. Banks rolled her eyes and shook herself out, assessing her body as she went. She had minor bruises and scrapes, but nothing that wouldn’t be gone in a few days. “Oh, I’m so blessed,” she crooned aloud, snickering at herself again. “That’s what I get for thinking something might have been watching out for me, huh?” It crossed her mind that she shouldn’t laugh at her own jokes, but that thought was quickly replaced with one of non-concern. She had made this trek to find something—what that was, she wasn’t sure—but she was certain it wasn’t to care about what imaginary being might think about her laugh.
The wolf chose her steps carefully, jumping from rock to rock. She had chosen to go West for convenience—all she wanted to do was get on solid land. However, she now saw the beginning of a desert, and lit up. She took steps faster, vigilantly noting her footfalls and allowing her long, tall body to work for itself. She ran across the rock and straight into the expanse for a few strides before stopping in a gust of sand, dropping to the ground, and wiggling about happily.
She may have not been a pup anymore, but that was no reason to not have fun. Especially after you’ve been floating for a day and a half, she thought to herself giddily. Digging down, she laid in the hole and wriggled about so sand covered her body and only her head was exposed to the hot sun. She closed her eyes and smiled, placing her chin on the ground and holding back a giggle as she imagined what she looked like. The weight of the earth on her back and the pull of the earth underneath her was enough to solidify her decision to never swim again.
Banks made a mental note to ingrain this lesson into her core system of beliefs: anyone who needed humbling needed only to go swimming.
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