Of-Rising-Vortex lay back in his paddle boat. carried by the sea tide toward the approaching landmass and rising heat. A small, smooth stone balanced on the middle of his tongue, stimulating the saliva glands to release a slow stream of coolant.
Juniper green water lapped the beach's shallow crust. Along came the bobbing craft, constructed of fine, pale wood. Of-Rising-Vortex looked incredulously at the dried blonde, short grasses reached to the horizon. The fields further out blew gently below the murky blue sky. There, introducing itself were the quiet wildlands of To-Innocence, approximately forty degrees.