"'Ere's something what needs be said, old friend, but I cain't find the words ter be expressing it."

My eyes shifted and I lifted my head, glancing towards him. His broad shoulders and thick torso blocked most of my view of the sea below; stars glittered along his rough edges as though he were hewn from some dark, polished stone. He glanced over his shoulder at me, just enough to look at me sidelong, and laid a heavy hand on my neck.

"You always been 'ere. Cain't tell you how much I value 'at. 'S more important t'me than all 'ese stars 'n 'ese waves." He knew me too well and responded to my reaction before I could even react, "Yeah, even more'n my ocean 'n my night." His blunt fingers massaged my neck, and I half-lidded my eyes. He knew all the best spots.

"Only ever saw you once in yer own skin, y'know," he mused, gravelly voice softening as he spoke more quietly. I inched up closer until my claws hooked the edge of the cliff over which we watched the sea, and I leaned my shoulder against his hip. Just as instinctively as I had crept closer, he eased my cheek to rest against his ribcage, and soon we were breathing in time.

"Why is 'at? You ne'er talk, 'n you ne'er walk like yer own." His fingers stopped, and I glanced up to meet his gaze as he looked down at me. After a moment of no sound but the surf, he broke into an affecionate grin. "Seems like I can always hear you, though, fer all you don't say a word." He looked back out towards the distant horizon, running his fingers through my ruff until he was well and tangled in my mane. Like always, he left his hand there, a comfortable weight between my shoulder blades.

"Guess 'ere's still some things in 'is world what don't need said in words," he murmured, and smiled. I gazed outwards and downwards, watching the shadows of the surf meet the pale ghost of the shoreline, and purred.