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First post! Anyone's free to throw their charrie in <3

Saltwater drenched a silvery coat, pale audits pinned back as Tempest shook herself dry. How had she gone from being happy, in a family, in a pack, where she belonged, to being a hopeless loner within the span of a year? Her posture sank dejectedly. Usually Tempest felt a spark of joy within her, even in the darkest of hours; she had survived losing her entire family, survived the guilt of fleeing a battle where her sisters were in danger, but even her ever-glowing demeanour did not survive such lonliness and isolation.

Red-orange oculi glazed over as the she-wolf lay down, resting her heavy head on her forepaws. Oh, what have I done? Why had she ever left?

She had searched so deep within herself, gone on the longest soul-finding journey, yet all she felt now was a penetrating, icy numbness spreading to her very core. Tempest did not feel like Tempest anymore. She did not feel like the wolf who had joyfully played with her sisters, the wolf who had questioned Valyn's treatment of her brother. She felt like a different wolf. Perhaps that was just growing up, but if it was, then all she wanted to be was a pup again.

Well, lying here won't get you anywhere. Standing up with revitalised energy, Tempest narrowed her eyes and gazed around her at the flora and fauna. Or, perhaps, not Tempest anymore. The name had never suited someone so sweet in nature; nothing about her could be described as tempestuous, from the generous way she treated others to the pure, unbroken shimmer of her coat.

Casting her mind back to long ago, to back when she had first arrived in that strange forest area, the nostalgic femme recalled one of the first wolves there she had met: a kind elder named Sirona. Whilst they had never been close, the kind wolf had stayed in her memory for a while—perhaps of the mundaneness of life there that any sort of interaction stood out, but regardless, the now-adult felt the name to be pretty and decided to honour her memory by taking her name. The original Sirona was likely dead, but the new Sirona felt a strange calmness at this thought. She felt serene, tranquil; she had perhaps found some form of internal peace.

Sirona now began to lick clean her fur, rinsing it of the tongue-burning saltwater inbued within the fibres. She thought nothing of Athena's declaration of how pretty of a name Tempest was; as far as Sirona was concerned now, she had no mother. Her entire family was gone, and her entire life lay here, wherever here was.

Clock had been wandering the coast, fascinated by the ocean which he had never seen up until his recent arrival to the Teekon Wilds. He stopped to investigate a crab on the rocky shore. He woofed playfully at it and and bowed his forepaws to the ground, holding his haunches high and wagging his tail with youthful pleasure. Clock was only two years old and still prone to acts of play. He bounded happily around the crab as it waved one of its pincers threateningly at him, completely oblivious to the weapon. He dove in to give the crab a playful nip and screamed in a high-pitched whine when the crab's pincer clamped down on his nose and held fast. Clock scrabbled backward across the rough ground, trying to dislodge the irate crab. He pawed frantically at the hard little body with its hard, alien-like legs that were twitched to and fro as they tried to find purchase. The crab clamped harder and Clock's eyes began to water from the pain. He growled in frustration and shook his head hard. It seemed to daze the crab a little, but the vicious creature did not let go. It was as if the crab were determined to teach the wolf a lesson.

Starting to panic a little, Clock set off at a run, barking as loud as he could the whole way as he tried to scare the crab off of him. As he ran, Clock used his front paws to bat at the little body. Pretty soon, he saw another wolf off in the distance, calmly grooming her gleaming white coat. Clock ran right in her direction, hoping with all hope that she was friendly. So far, all of the wolves he had met in these parts were friendly. "Excuse me!" he called when they were within shouting distance. He hoped his voice didn't betray how panicked he was, but dear god!, his nose was having the oddest sensation of throbbing and being numb at the same time. Plus, the strange creature that was the crab was starting to weird him out. "Can you.... um, help me?"

To Sirona's amusement, it seemed that a wolf nearby was having a bit of trouble. The monochrome stranger had some unusual creature stuck to his nose, and though the sight was humourous to behold, the growingly concerned femme knew that she could not just sit and laugh.
Sprinting over to the other wolf, the fae introduced herself: "Hey! I'm Sirona. Hold on, let me do something about that." Though she knew that these bizarre animals could harm her if she tried to pry them off, she could not just sit there while someone suffered. There was nothing else to do so Sirona merely dipped her head down, securing her teeth around the unusual thing.
With a sharp tug, the crustacean let go of the other wolf. Now what? Should she just let the thing go? But then it might have come back to cling onto one of the wolves again. Making a quick decision, Sirona raced to the ocean and tossed the thing as far as it would go before running back. Hopefully they would not return to bother them again, at least for a while.

Clock released a sigh of relief when the other wolf, Sirona, immediately offered her assistance. He held still while she pryed it off, wincing when the pincer finally came free from his nose. He expected her to fling the offending creature off into the bushes, but instead watched as she dashed to the ocean as fast as she could. He quickly followed, barking threateningly at the tiny body as it soared through the air and landed in the water with a splash. He watched the waves for a few moments with hair raised to see if the creature would come back. When he was satisfyed it wouldn't, he turned to the female. "Thank you Sirona!" he said graciously. "I owe you one! My name is Clock, by the way." He wagged his tail friendly-like, then pawed a little at his snout. It hurt a lot, and was bleeding in a few areas where the pincer had broken the soft skin of his nose.