Ankyra Sound ready for repair

The consort had settled into Saltwinter as well as he allowed himself, knowing that this was only meant to be temporary. A small group of wolves banded together and united with one goal: survive the winter; thus he made attempts not to get too attached to the Sound the pack had claimed, nor any of the wolves whom he called comrades. He couldn't help the cynical consideration that they weren't any different from any other packs. The end game was survival, was it not? Survival and succession. The pass of genetics to make better wolves, for that was the only role of children in a “mother nature” manner of looking at it. In a very cutthroat way of looking at life it wasn't as complicated as many of them tended to make it. It was simple, really. Survive and procreate. Thinking of it so cut and dry helped, sometimes. Yet, at other times there was a lot of joy in having children (even bastard children) and to look at life so bleak wasn't...well was it living? It was existing, at least.

These thoughts plagued him every once in a while, though only when he lost his thoughts to the Sea, as he did currently. Sea-green eyes that mimicked Her own coloration — albeit much less murky — were far away, trained on the distance and glimmering horizon as the falling sun reflected upon the waves in the far off distance. The salt water was cold against his paws where it reached out to grasp him, splashing up upon his legs. For the sake of not wanting to catch a bug he did not go close enough to allow anything more than his paws to be wet. Errant, an ear twitched back, as if he were trying to shoo off a fly, partially aware of the world around him though he remained captivated by the beauty of the Sea and his thoughts.