The air changes, subtly, as she begins to leave the harsh in-between. Behind her lies the swamp and the harshness of the trek. Ahead it is easier to journey towards the ocean. A tang of salt makes her muscles loosen and she feels the anxiety of her time in the swamp melt into the familiar, though slightly distant, crash of waves. Home is waiting and she is all too glad to be near it.
In all her expeditions--which are few at this point in time--she had never yet met a soul past the swamp. No kin have greeted her near the ocean or at it. She'd learned all she knew by herself, from need. Why it has not occurred to her that there are others, she had no idea. And it is only now, a distinctly kin shape emerging from the brine laden air that she realizes how silly she has been.
"Hello," she calls a greeting; whoever this kin is she wants them to know she is not an enemy. That any other kin who ventures to the ocean, like she has, is at least ally. Again a thought--one she is only half aware of--blooms. Perhaps this could be a friend...
phoenix kiss