A pungent, salty odor filled the air as Tahoe drew farther north. His coal hued nostrils flared as he daintily lifted his snout to the oncoming breeze. The wind tickled his rhinarium, delivering unfamiliar scents before dying into stagnancy. He could decipher that the smell was carried from a distance, yet strong enough to survive the journey. It had the same paludal aroma as the waterways he knew from back home. Yet this time, it was uniquely fetid in nature. Curiosity brewed within him. Tahoe had never been entranced by the idea sightseeing for adventure, but it'd be idiotic to ignore something as prominent as this. Bemused, he decided to continue on his chosen route and investigate the phenomenon.

As he grew nearer, the zephyrs transformed into chaotic torrents of wind that tussled with his pelage. The forest fell behind him now, giving way to a sea of tall grasses which grazed his long limbs as he traipsed through. The malodorous scent was at its peak in strength, coupled by the constant raucous crashing of water against a solid mass. In the distance, he saw it. An endless plateau of water churned ahead, bearing semblance to the lakes he had seen throughout his travels. This lake was different, it went as far as the eye could see. Tahoe had never seen the ocean, until today. With more haste to his step, he advanced further. The grasses lessened in height and number to eventually become replaced by more barren terrain. Muddied tones of tans and yellows coated the earth in fine granules. Ahead, the land gently sloped downward before being devoured by the sea. A blackened boulder strewn upon the shoreline caught his eye. Tahoe strode forth, deftly hopping atop it. His claws scrabbled against the stone as he searched for ample footing. Finally satisfied, McBride cast his gaze frontwards, observing the glittering waters dance beneath the midday sun. It was truly a sight he'd never forget. He studied the shoreline, spotting a distant lupine silhouette. Tahoe lowered himself onto his underbelly, squinting at the form. His senses were useless now. The ocean waves drowned out any other sounds, plus the stench of it alone was enough to take his breath away. His eyes were his best asset here. Hopefully this fellow would decide to leave him in solitude.  

His hopes for an afternoon in seclusion were shattered as the silhouette began to mobilize. Tahoe's gleaming yellow visionaries bored into the tiny form, espying it meander uphill. He felt a twinge of satisfaction. Perhaps he'd get his indolent day on the beach after all. McBride's conclusion was premature, his frown deepening as the dot grew larger, signifying the lupine had changed course and was now impending arrival. A vexed huff escaped him; it wasn't too late to turn back. Yet, the midday sun's rays upon his back were too tranquilizing to abandon. He was seduced by the serenity of the bay, too subconsciously hypnotized to willingly let it evade him. He had traveled a great distance to come here, he felt as though he deserved to indulge in the fruits of his taxing labor. Kept in place by utter lethargy and obstinate will, he stared down at the newcomer till they paused a few lengths away. The fellow was splashed in varying tones of chocolate, peppered with flecks of charcoal and grays. Quite rudimentary. Most notably, they fashioned practically a single ear. The other one seemed to be reduced to more of a stub. Tahoe's own ears were quite a mangled situation, he wasn't one to judge. At least he still had both of them. The wolf gave a straightforward greeting, clear enough to be discerned amid the constant crash of ocean waves. Based on their decision to remain out of close range, he assumed this man was wary of him. A wise decision, they seemed more premeditated with their choices than most. 

Good afternoon. He echoed monotonously, his deadened stare holding strong.

He examined the wolf attentively, making sure to catch their reply amidst the noisy atmosphere. They introduced themself formally, offering a few words about the sea in addition. He construed it to be simple small talk. Tahoe remained leisurely glued to his post atop the pleasantly warm stone. He'd rather keep his advantage of possessing the high ground than leveling with the trifling stranger. It was safer, but significantly more comfortable. His body ached from making the tedious journey to the shoreline, he refused to needlessly waste any more energy. The man—Memphis—had already made his way to him anyway. Tahoe didn't feel obliged to go greet him. A soft sigh escaped his chest. Possibly, Memphis could be useful to him. It would be foolish to dismiss the stranger so early on. A simple chat wouldn't kill him after all. McBride blinked, letting a moment pass before delivering his reply. 

Tahoe. He returned finally, answering with his own name. Yep. The water sure looks mighty fine today. You from 'round here?

Memphis wasn't the same as most foreigners he met. The mocha colored man spoke solemnly, his words seemed to be fueled by an inner wisdom. His mannerisms seemed carefully deliberate.

"Not really, I'm merely a traveler that ventured to various places around Teekon Wilds."  A pause. "Do you have any intention of joining a pack in the future, Tahoe?"

The inquisition was certainly unexpected. Tahoe hadn't given that notion a great deal of thought. Back in the days of his own pack, he'd never fathom letting a stranger simply strut their way into joining them. He was an unforgiving guardian. His family had the same attitude, they wanted no part in accepting any shifty newcomers. None ever tried to join though. Their intentions were always nefarious. And so, any wolf who set foot on his lands were subject to a punishment they wouldn't forget—if they survived. Along his latter travels, Tahoe had encountered a handful of docile wolves—rather forgettable characters—but a few had expressed their desires to find a pack. That's how he became aware of such amiable practices out West. He assumed some packs would operate similarly to his, yet there had to be some groups still forming—hungry for members. It was true, a large pack would certainly have its advantages. Setting foot on another's land was risky, he was baffled to how someone would even consider trespassing, requesting to outright join. Tahoe never sought to be the sociable type anyway, avoiding encounters was much easier, and frankly less vexing to him. Though, he couldn't deny life would be more beneficial with the aid of fellow packmembers. If he could find a group that he didn't grow to detest, perhaps he would join. He gave Memphis' words additional consideration before replying. 

Memphis’ inquiry had ignited a fire which swallowed his mind. His reply to the man was truthful, but he felt the subject required further contemplation. Tahoe was at odds with realization that he had become nothing more than the pathetic loners he used to run off his territory. He was merely a piece of driftwood amidst the ravenous ocean which churned before his eyes. This realization ceased to bother him, but led to a chain of thoughts he had always tiptoed around. McBride sought to never make solid plans for the future—marching around with a fixated agenda made life less enjoyable to him—but in this instance, he needed some guidance. Abruptly, Tahoe extinguished the thoughts, allowing Memphis to grasp his full attention. Memphis offered well wishes to him, divulging his plans to embark on some journey. He then turned, meandering off toward the sea. It was quite an exit, even though a little premature.

Good luck. He woofed after him. His beady pupils followed Memphis' departing form as he continued to bask upon the boulder. Tahoe's wish for a day at the beach would be granted.