He came upon the empty shore quite by accident - or so he thought, with his mind a-flutter with the beauty surrounding him. It was a very hot day upon the coast. The heat coaxed the wind in to dancing carelessly across the and, whipping the sea in to a frenzy, though he would not have seen it. The air buffed at him, pulling at his coat of flyaways and toussling what once was a well groomed figure. Renoir stood upon the sand with a foolish - or maybe mad - grin upon his face, feeling the force of nature billowing around him, and finding it exhilarating.
The boy had wound his was across the coast for a couple of days now, and even upon discovering a river, he had crossed it with no uncertainty. What he was faced with now was new, it was bizarre, and like the cliffside he was not sure of how close he should get in his observations. The closer he thought he was to the sea, the further it seemed to fall away - he had no knowledge of the tide, nor the dire consequences of being out upon the salted flat when the water returned upon itself.
There were beasts abound along the shore; some keeling in the air, calling out as he had witnessed from the bluff. Still there were others, larger things, exorbitant with their roundness and deep voices both. From afar he thought they were merely boulders - Renoir had passed by many closer to the shore - but the closer he got, the louder they seemed, and the more animated they became. Had he ever seen a seal before? Non! This was not even a seal, but a great lion! It bellowed to him in a challenging way, and Renoir was tempted by foolish glee to bay and howl in response. His calls could be heard across the strand, and did little to frighten the beasts he so stupidly tempted.
Ness had been carrying a bad mood on her shoulders for a while, albeit unknowingly. It affected the way she hunted and slept, but as soon as she realized her perpetual decay, the white wolf defaulted to what she knew best: running. When she ran, it was without thought or effort. A childhood on the tundra had brazened her for endurance, and her lope took her quite far before she tired and rested an hour or so. She sated her thirst and caught a small vole to touch her belly, but she quickly resumed her enduring task, eager to drain herself of all the negative energy that had accumulated in her recently.
She ran and ran, slowing to a long-legged cant when the barks of sea lions— mingling with the coltish song of a wolf— drew her towards the shore. Cresting a grassy knoll, she peered down to see a lissome blonde wolf baying foolishly before a pack of sea lions. She knew their kind, and Ness didn't trust any creature that could survive the icy tundra sea as these creatures could. Her tail lashed back and forth, and she called down to the wolf. "You may want to stop that. It's getting pretty close to their season— might be a little territorial, yeah?"
Oh, but what fun he was having! These beasts were so heavy that they were like slugs! His noise was briefly muffled by the groans and grunts of their own chorus, but occasionally, at least one bull would turn its head and regard him with a dumbed eye; and he laughed through his teeth, standing just out of range of their moored bodies. Renoir began to pace around them as if to hunt, his paws leaving wide prints in the wet sand, and quickly enough there were rows upon rows of his marks curling crescent-shaped around the horde of beasts. He paused only when a voice came creeping down to him, and it caught him off guard; with a raise of his head and the subtle pivot of his golden ears, he listened through the cacophony of the irate mirounga.
When he identified the voice as female, Renoir's efforts to tempt fate were swiftly abated. He turned towards the shore and loped with even strides until he could see the girl, and then he let out a little bark for her too; after his last encounter upon the edge of the world, he was thoroughly overjoyed upon finding a real, live woman. Renoir danced towards her, stopping short by a few wolf-lengths, and grinned happily across the sand. They are slow, jis ti fi! Come, let us tempt them together!
He was in a queer mood - not so much a refined young soul now, after spending so long in this wilderness. Being alone was not so difficult nor painful, he had surmised. Having company was always better, though.
Ness pranced to the accented wolf's side, though didn't seem intent on venturing much nearer to the sea lions than she had already come. "Yeah, they seem slow— but I think they're faking it," she said conspiratorially, turning her separately colored eyes at the svelte male. She had seen these things jump through foamy waves of sea water that meant a freezing, drowning death for any wolf, and she had seem them speedily skim the surface as fish flew from them in droves. "I don't trust anything that can move that fast in freezing cold water. I mean, can you catch a wolf by swimming in the deep?" she asked him; and though she had the inherent suspicion that no wolf could swim that fast, looking at him— with his large and golden, stream-lined build— had her wondering if it was possible. "I'm pretty sure they can be just as fast on land if they wanted to. Just not interested in it?"
Another one of Ness' outlandish theories/ideas.
As she drifted closer, it took all of his willpower to stay stationary. His tail fanned the air without hindrance, occasionally dusting at the sand, and when she began to speak of the lazy creatures beyond them he turned to watch them for a moment longer. With each new tidbit of information Renoir's face shifted to a new expression, something gaudy and woefully expressive; the thought of being dragged out to sea was horrific, and her question - while redundant - had him shaking his head with a display of pure mortification wrought there.
He turned to look at her then, deciding it was a good choice to stay back. To think, he had been tempting these foul creatures! What if they were only pretending to be slow and dim-witted? Oh, that was a fine game indeed! A dangerous game. The boy felt a tremble work down his yellowed spine and he scampered a few steps around her, putting distance between the pair of them and the beasts. Oui, that is -- that is a very terrible thing! We will not visit them.
With that he was marching off, but he kept his attention trained on her, hoping she would follow. You know things mwen do not, youn dous.