Gilded Bay Scrubs are too far down the line

His query was met with the simplest of statements, smooth and formal as his strange new companion spoke aloud. With a light rumble of content, the ribboned fellow let his head fall back towards the rows, nosing the sands as he searched for their beautifully curved shells. It took only a moment of brief hesitation before his snout jarred the edge of one of his finds and he let his tongue protrude a little, feeling his way upwards until he found the tip. This he clamped his teeth around and hit hard, tracing the new hole with a satisfactory smile. He did this to each of the others too, whilst keeping one ear awake as he listened to seaside tones of the boy.

"What's black?" he mumbled as he spat the last shards of shell, his thoughts a simple sheen. His friend seemed to stutter, nervousness perhaps? Leaving the rows be, he rose to his paws, throat emitting a low comforting chuff as he padded back to where the distressed wolf seemed to be disturbing the silence. "Tide," he replied, nudging his side to where he assumed his shoulder would be. "Well that's what I call myself." With a pleased grin, he set his rump to the grains, tail thumping the ground.