Shifting Ground

A pulse runs through my tail. I shift my weight. The foam beneath my feet yields, soft and silent. Ahead, figures stand locked in mid-strike beneath glittering branches. None blink. None breathe. I lower my head and take one deliberate step forward. My heavy foot sinks into the yellow tile with a muffled thud. I pause, watching. Nothing stirs. I press the tip of my jaw against the snout of the fallen sea creature before me. Cold. Motionless. I stand tall in the clearing. I am moving.