Peg nodded understanding what he meant or at least his analogy, scent was of course something which was so important and paramount to the survival of what she was, like her hearing, her sense of smell was some what sharper than most. The irrika also understood about the matter of smoking pot, after all she was no angel, in that respect; at least she certainly had not been in the past.<br/><br/>“Well where I am from …a small fishing village in Cornwall, not too far from the Mousehole. Of course its likely been turned into a bunch of holiday cottages, or for the rich city dwellers as a rustic retreat for the weekends.” A long sigh passed from her lips, “The fishermen were struggling when we had to leave…”  There was another sight thought this time with a part smile, “It is a beautiful place, and the sea was wild when the storms came…” For a moment she was distant with the memories of the place even more so as this sea called to her.<br/><br/>A deep breath was drawn in through her nostrils, the sea continued to call, and Peggerty stifled the urge to call back, to howl a reply for it might do more than give the game away. So she grabbed her lovers hand and raced into the water, her smile had returned fully.<br/>