After a moderate eastward trek, you and your host reach the seashore. Low dunes topped with long golden sea oats and ample amounts of coarse grasses rise in humble beauty to either side before giving way to the flat sands. The sea breeze catches at the foliage as well as the two travelers, hinting of sea tales long lost upon the waters. The sounds of the gently rolling waves are intermixed with the ardent cries of the seabirds, some laughing and others given to cries of a more somber nature. There are hardly any tracks upon the sand, and those that are apparent are primarily avian, though there is also evidence of crabs or some other crustacean. Pungent salt aromas mingle with the less amicable smell of washed-up seaweed as you near the water, though it does not seem to bother the small shorebirds that skitter away as the visitors approach. The entire scene is one of natural calm, and you can feel your travel weariness slip away- at least a little. Your quiet host appears to be studying the water some distance out, no doubt searching for this area’s tenant, but neither of you spot him right away. Only after a few minutes do you catch sight of a fin, and then a wing, and at last a face.
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