Cerulean Cape young, scrappy, and hungry

The wind tugged at his fur also, but Gristle was so used to the wind tunnels that had formed in the canyon that he paid it no mind. The salt stung his nose, though, and he continuously swiped his tongue across his jaws to rid himself of the sensation. Why one would even be out here confused him, and he began to wonder why he was even waiting for them to return from the cape. The man almost decided to not waste his time and turn back inland when the other noticed him.

He was slowly heading his way — a sizeable, black-furred male. Lucky for the stranger, he was very much pureblooded wolf. Anything else and Gristle was prone to treat them with extreme prejudice, for no other reason besides the fact that they were different. Inferior. He caught his greeting before the wind swept it away, yet ignored it with a toss of his head. "This place is not habitable," he stated dumbly (and loudly, over the howling of the wind and crashing of the waves). There was an unspoken question at the end, for Gristle assumed the stranger lived here and wondered why he chose such a strange place.