Gilded Bay Waiting for the tune of some old dying man

The weather was poor, a clash of cloud and bitterly cold winds, sharp with the smell of the salty sea. Normally, the pale wolf would have shied from such weather, retreating into the shelter of the towering sequoias that broke the winter's harsh howling. She was by no means a fair weather beast, but she was not used to such humid winds, pelting ice, and roaring waves. It frightened her a little, and often she found herself longing for the familiarity of home. She missed the mountain peaks and the fields of snow. There was little snow in the area, and although it was winter, it did not feel the same.

In fact, nothing felt the same anymore. She had been nursing for just a few days now, and her abdomen felt sore. Her teats were heavy - she had proven to be an excellent milk producer - but it was all very foreign to her. The swollen lumps swayed awkwardly and changed her gait, and it felt like the fine fur on her tummy was always matted and slick with her sweet smelling lactation. It was not unpleasant, but it certainly felt like a borrowed experience. The pups were not her own. She had skipped the unpleasantness of pregnancy and went straight to motherhood.

But she was young and inexperienced. Already, she found herself needing a break, starved to get out of the den - although she loved Doe's company - and starved for a meal she could catch herself. Unfortunately, she was in no shape to run about, and so she was stuck with hunting, sullenly stocking the coastline with very little luck. Fishing was not her area of expertise, and especially with the stormy weather, she did not know how she would ever manage to catch a single fish.

Luck was on her side, however, as she spotted a distant figure, wolf by the scent. She trotted close, ears splayed sideways to listen forward while simultaneously avoiding the wind. Looming over the tide pool was a stranger who looked like he knew what he was doing. Maybe he could give her some helpful hints. Approaching cautiously, she offered a gentle, polite chuff, just loud enough to be heard over the gale, and waited, not wanting to interrupt if he was about to catch something.