Ocean's Breath Plateau until his feet bleed and

wintersbane never cared much for the coast. more specifically beaches. the sea holds no real draw to him and sand is like a parasite that takes at least a week to fully wash his coat of. he's vain enough to mind the grating little particles and the sticky feeling he's left with as he departs any territory that is close enough to the sea to be slapped in the face with the salty brine that constantly wafts of of it. he's built for tundras and harsh mountains ...and those are the territories he naturally gravitates to. still, he's free of time constraints, free of having to answer to anyone and he takes liberties with his explorations. even if that means exploring territories he would, otherwise, steer clear of.

the plateau, however, isn't too bad. the salty sting of sea brine does whip through his fur like the ungentle draw of a child's fingers through the fur of his frosted silvery-blue mane being too rough with the petting action. the height of the plateau buffers the worst of it and the view ...well, he can't exactly deny that the view of the vast ocean and the territories nearby is breathtaking; yet when he descends into the shelter the plateau offers: tall grasses and stout conifers and shrubs it further filters the air. he can still taste salt on the air, of course. it's an unpleasant thing that lingers on all territories upon the coast but stronger than that the tundrian can scent that this territory does not lack on food sources and considers lingering and exploring it further for a few days as opposed to the simple day trip he'd originally planned upon.