Oliver glanced up into the early morning sky. There was a thin layer of mist that coated about a foot above the ground, and everything felt sticky and moist. The leaves, which usually would have crunched under his feet, merely sighed as he proceeded to walk around the empty clearing. It was about the size of a meadow, but great rolling hills obstructed most of the view. Then, just as one got over the last hill, one realized that the ocean was highly visible, the salty aroma stinging the nostrils and making the eyes water.Oliver looked out over the side of the cliff he was currently perched on, kicking a rock with his forehoof and watching it tumble down into the churning black water. There had been a storm earlier that morning, one that shook the earth and lit up the whole dark sky and kept him up all night.
He yawned, feeling a little shaky. He wasn't terrified of heights, oh no, but they definitely were not his favorite place to be, especially if he was tired. But, oh well, it was a fantastic view, and he felt his heart swell as he heard the waves hitting the shore and the crying of seagulls.
He missed being on the sea with his father, he had to admit. Nothing could ever measure up to crab hunting with Will Turner just to laugh at the crabs' crushing claws. Nothing could ever be as fun as racing through the extremely blue waves, on a white sandy beach, with his father. And nothing would ever be able to replace the nights by the rushing tide while his father told stories of pirates, monsters, and his mother. Nothing could be as wonderful as that.
