Totoka River On the sandy coast, windswept

He hums thoughtfully as he lifts his head and his blue eyes drift across the many bugs that surround them, from the ones in the air to the ones that crawled about their feet. "I don't think I'm that hungry," he muses with a casual roll of his broad shoulders, before her turns his gaze back to her.

She is a small, young wolf with curious, copper accents. His drab coat of grays is rather dull in comparison, his own accents simply darker shades of what he is made of. Yet the most curious thing of all is her missing tail, and though a joke about the ravenous bugs is quick to form in his mind, it does not come off his tongue.

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" His head whips around to snap at a locust who tickles his flank as it crawls across him.