Gilded Bay your bones are the spires of Stockholm

He had holed up by his creek long enough. Spring is in full affect, and the warm weather and easy travel through snow-free lands spurs the smokey wolf to expand his range and see what lies further to the north. He is not disappointed to spot another wolf so soon in his travels; a season spent alone had been plenty respite for him, and he is eager to reconnect with others.

His smooth gait brings him nearer, and he watches curiously as the female plys sustenance from beneath the trapped seawater. "Finding anything good?" he calls as he approaches, holding his position some respectable distance away with a gently swaying and tail and perked, interested ears.