He hadn't been inland long, but the flowers were already fading. It made sense, Delta knew how seasons changed beneath the waves, but the chill of autumn wind was certainly more merciless than that of the ocean's currents. It was disappointing, but it was an inevitability. He slid downstream past the muddy river, relishing the sensation of sediment pushing from his gills by the cleaner water. Slowly he rose from the river's bottom and forced the water from his nose, head splitting through the current as he turned to watch the incoming fields.
The wide swaths of colors he'd caught glimpses of while traversing the rivers had begun to darken and curl, petals dropping one by one as winter plodded closer and sucked the life from the blooming meadows. It was disappointing to have not seen the flowers in their prime, but as the sun rose over the horizon and the sky bled with morning orange, Delta leered from the river's edge and tasted the cool wind. He caught the scent of flowers, but nothing much else so early in the day. Even the distant shapes of buffalo laid stagnant.
Perfect for what Delta wanted to do.
He took a deep breath and forced the water from his gills, steeling his resolve as he cut through the river and churned his paws until they met sloping gravel. Carefully he hauled himself from the water, fins hanging heavy against his sides as he shook the pins and needles from his legs. Without bothering to shake the moisture from his coat, Delta awkwardly shuffled past the bank and towards the closest patch of flowers, growling softly at the sensation of his tail dragging so cumbersome behind him. Alas, his struggle on land was worth it, and he could finally stand face to face with the petals he'd long since admired from the water.
Most of Delta's diet was fish. Fish and sea grapes and shellfish and whatever else could fit inside his mouth; growing up in the ocean had made him far from picky. He'd long since grown accustomed to those salty tastes, so the discovery of sweet was something else entirely. The land had sweet things! Sweet things like flowers! He looked nervously back and forth through the grass before snapping one of the flowers up in his jaws, leaving only the naked stem attached before moving onto the next.
They were delicious, yes, but dangerous. Leaving the water was always a risk and something to be avoided, but the flowers would be gone soon, and it would take months before he could taste them again.
While he'd reached his fill for the moment, another idea came to him. Carefully he began to gather more of the blossoms within his jaws, clutching the stalks of several between his teeth before backing out from the grass and awkwardly turning his long body around to face the river again.
The wide swaths of colors he'd caught glimpses of while traversing the rivers had begun to darken and curl, petals dropping one by one as winter plodded closer and sucked the life from the blooming meadows. It was disappointing to have not seen the flowers in their prime, but as the sun rose over the horizon and the sky bled with morning orange, Delta leered from the river's edge and tasted the cool wind. He caught the scent of flowers, but nothing much else so early in the day. Even the distant shapes of buffalo laid stagnant.
Perfect for what Delta wanted to do.
He took a deep breath and forced the water from his gills, steeling his resolve as he cut through the river and churned his paws until they met sloping gravel. Carefully he hauled himself from the water, fins hanging heavy against his sides as he shook the pins and needles from his legs. Without bothering to shake the moisture from his coat, Delta awkwardly shuffled past the bank and towards the closest patch of flowers, growling softly at the sensation of his tail dragging so cumbersome behind him. Alas, his struggle on land was worth it, and he could finally stand face to face with the petals he'd long since admired from the water.
Most of Delta's diet was fish. Fish and sea grapes and shellfish and whatever else could fit inside his mouth; growing up in the ocean had made him far from picky. He'd long since grown accustomed to those salty tastes, so the discovery of sweet was something else entirely. The land had sweet things! Sweet things like flowers! He looked nervously back and forth through the grass before snapping one of the flowers up in his jaws, leaving only the naked stem attached before moving onto the next.
They were delicious, yes, but dangerous. Leaving the water was always a risk and something to be avoided, but the flowers would be gone soon, and it would take months before he could taste them again.
While he'd reached his fill for the moment, another idea came to him. Carefully he began to gather more of the blossoms within his jaws, clutching the stalks of several between his teeth before backing out from the grass and awkwardly turning his long body around to face the river again.