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The dying rays of a setting sun stretched desperately across the salt-laden waters like a pianist's fingers clutching a reluctant throat. It was a place far from usual, and a location somehow familiar. But for the failing orb of light, the skies were virgin and unmarred, with less than the smallest cloud to obscure its omnipresent glory. And as so many things come not alone, nor in pairs, so there was the other. The soil which carried feet so well spread where brine and air would not. An army of grass all across its surface was the only indication that height even existed here, for there were no dunes or hills to speak of.
He noted the clear, straight line of horizon, where sometimes three, more oft two of the trinity met with practiced reservation and eye for protocol, for none would intrude upon the others' domains.
In this place, the sea was a deep green. Here, the grasses were vibrant in their natural colours. The hue of the cloudless sky was of a quality only found on ancient 8-bit handhelds. What was here but differing shades of emerald?
Ah, but there was something alright. He could feel the disturbance as clearly as the tiniest drop of red ink could be seen on a pure white sheet of paper. And a disturbance it was, roaming now in the domains of Grumbar, then where Procam reigned, bobbing into and out of Nut's strictly fenced property.
It was not by walking, precisely, that he followed it. But he followed it.
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