Sequoia Coast what matters, love, to a goddess of death?

The scent of brine and saline fill the air around them. There was a small air of anticipation in all three of the wolves as they close their distance on the coast. The travel was tasking in the sense that the skeletal little coywolf was truly understanding the lack of prey and how it would make their lives more difficult. His cadaverous figure was showing the lack of nutrient intake. While he took the time to scavenge for his herbs and supplies, he knew fishing would prove to be helpful. Without food he would grow weaker until he would lapse altogether and find himself incapable of moving forward. 

Their group takes off at a steady trot towards the shore. Gluska’s gaze darts for a moment to follow the loping figure of the dark Heda but he does not trail behind her. His attention is quickly turned to his own task. Without a word to the others, the narrow beast presses his snout downward in search of his medical treasures.