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Freya’s P.O.V I watched the waves crashing onto the shore; the stormy winds sweep my hair back from my face violently. It was five thirty in the morning and the sun had yet to rise, but there was still light in the horizon and it was enough to help me see my way around the broken pieces of wood and other debris lying on the sand. This area of the sea-shore, at the back of my house wasn’t a beach. I don’t think it could ever be considered one with the amount of rubbish lying around. There were far too many rocks on the shore to make swimming almost impossible, but still, whenever I was feeling down, I would come here often, just so I could watch the sun bring new light into the world. But there was another thing that often drew me to this beach. Paw prints. They were all over the sand.