Ember Ridge — What the Tide Washed In [Read Only]

Larkspur coughed ashore, splashing loudly as her paws slapped wetly against the ground, uncaring of who heard. Their throat felt like it had been rubbed completely raw in their furious struggle to breathe through the river's worth of water she thinks she absorbed during the last wave of that horrible flood. Gods, she thinks she developed a mild fear of water from all of that - was there a new god that she should be paying attention to? One that felt neglected by the constant attention showered upon the other two gods? Or was a ridiculously powerful rain-spirit who simply felt the need to cause some trouble? She gave a hard shake, not even bothering with her wings that had proved ultimately useless in the eye of the storm, their gentle feathers completely waterlogged and all of their useful oils washed away. There was no point in risking the furious itching sensation that would come with the feathered limbs drying all out of sorts - all it would do is put the wolf in an even fouler mood than they already were in. They coughed and sneezed for a moment longer, water sprayed almost painfully from their nose in burning bursts of breath as they tried to clear as much liquid from their lungs as possible. If there really was a sea god, they would be putting together a sacrifice with a swiftness, if only to ensure that never happens to them again. It was only when a final snort cleared what they supposed was the last of the water that the sharp, acrid scent of smoke and fire caught their nose. "The hell?" said aloud, finally beginning to process their surroundings with a dumbfounded expression. They turned slowly, looking at what they could only describe as hell come to earth - lava everywhere, oozing across the landscape in bright-colored streaks. If they tilted their head back, they could see the crest of a mountain - or rather, given the magma and the smoke billowing from its peak, a volcano. Abruptly, they became aware that the stinging sensation in their pads was not, in fact, the pain from scratching them up while they flailed underwater (or at least, not only that), but rather, the rather warm ground beneath her paws. "...um," they said, stepping nervously backwards. They had no idea where they were, not the faintest idea of where the right way to run was. "I'm sorry for falling asleep that one time when mother was explaining about the gods, I promise to be more dedicated in the future?" Their only answer was the seemingly angry growl of the broiling mountain, the ground clattering beneath their paws. Ah hells, it would be just their luck that they survive a flood and potentially an angry water god only to stumble onto an even angrier fire god and be melted alive. Without hesitation, they turned tail and fled in the vague direction of 'away from the peak' in the hopes that if it did erupt, they could at least escape the lava-flow. "Where in the unholy planes am I?" they practically snarled aloud. They knew two years of peace was too good to be true. Their paws slapped against the warm stones beneath them as they wordlessly unfurled their large, feathered wings. They had intended to merely let the wet and messy limbs rest until they had time to properly groom them, but the furiously rumbling mountain was a powerful motivation to change their mind. They bounded over the various cracks in the earth, avoiding the slow flowing but searing how magma that made them sweat beneath their pelt. Their feathers were all misaligned, digging into their pelt while others dislodged and drifted to the ground, and the wolf just knew she was going to molt so hard after this. She took in a deep breath of slightly ashen air as they reached a ledge. Normally, they would never attempt to fly with wings this badly mangled, but their options were a) fly with badly groomed wings, or b) be devoured by whatever god of fire she pissed off. In the end it, it was a simple choice. Larkspur flung themselves from the ledge and promptly began pumping their wings as furiously as possible, compensating for the sorry state of their limbs. "I should've gone straight home," the winged-wolf sighed, and turned themselves and began to glide. They had no idea where to go from here, but so long as it was 'away from the fire monster' they couldn't find it in themselves to care. --- Speech.