OPEN/PROMPT | WATER'S EDGE

[rochelle]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; width: 550px; padding-bottom: 17px; overflow: stretch; border-bottom: 2px dashed;"]The sun had just barely risen, a light mist hanging across Haven Island. The fog swept through the willows, blanketing the overgrowth, a fresh, cool scent of water floating in the air. The island's flora was a palette of ash brown, soft verdant, and brilliant purple in the shade of the rising sun. The dawn was a muted one, not like it was on the main island, not booming with vibrancy and life. Instead, Haven Island was calm that morning, a slice of serenity and peace nestled into the Typhoon.

The dark brown figure stuck close to the ground, sniffing the wet earth as she padded through. The weeping willows had been a calling to her previous home that Rochelle couldn't resist. She wandered forth, stopping every so often to observe the scenery around her. Her old home had been within a swamp-like area like Haven Island, except in the middle of it there had been an abandoned hospital. That place, as inhabited as it had been, had always a sense of quietness, of emptiness. Much like how she felt now ... as if there was no one else on this Island. Looking across the shore to Paradis Island, she too felt like there was no one there too ... like she was the only creature on this Earth.

There was snap in the branches beside her that captured her out of her thoughts. The lean wolf stepped back, one paw laying forward as her haunches lowered. Was someone there after all? Rochelle inhaled, trying to catch the scent of another, but she found nothing. Instead, she saw something- a path in between the lush green brush. Her ears flicked, head tilting to the side. Was that path ... always there? She stepped forward to the beginning of the trail, hesitantly gazing down it. It was comprised of stones embedded into the forest floor, winding down the length of the island to an unknown spot.

Rochelle considered going down it, but wasn't so sure, not until her amber eyes caught sight of something. On one of the rocks, she noticed upon further inspection, there was a carving. E i d o t h e a ... The girl swallowed deeply. Eidothea? The sea nymph? Was she to give Rochelle a prophecy, an omen? Alarmed, her gaze darted up and she looked to get away from the carving, instead only to find another, this time etched into the bark of a willow. Y o u - c a n n o t - r u n - f r o m - t h e - f u r y - o f - t h e - t h e - l a n d ...

The memories all came rushing back. The valor and pride, the overwhelming fear, the abandonment of her people, running from the violence, running from the anger and the past. Rochelle staggered backwards, eyes never leaving the carving. When she brushed up against the back of a tree, she darted out of the path, out of Haven Island, paws pounding across the boards of the bridge until the sand was flying behind her, racing across the shore of Paradis Island. She went until she reached Barracuda Bay, stopping when she was near enough to the ocean that her paws touched the saltwater.

Then, she sat, breathing sharply and heavily. She cried, though she didn't sob or gasp, she just stared blankly out for miles and miles across the ocean, trying to find some sort of peace between the crashing waves and the sizzling sea foam.