Gilded Bay Og havet, hun snakket til meg

govinda was up earlier than usual; the golden-brown man usually never rose before the sun. but here he was, prowling the beach, the pre-dawn light glowing off his pelt. it might have been a short excursion were it not for the red wolf looking toward the horizon. this was decidedly not izel, and he trotted toward her, giving a gentle bark before pulling up to stand a few tail-lengths away.

"namaskar," he said warmly, softly, looking toward the waves. govinda glanced toward her, slightly transfixed by the color of her fur. like the sea at sunset, the rays bleeding into the water like rippling fire. "i have not seen you around here before. who are you?"

not that he was in any position to chase her off (nor did he want to). he did not claim an inch of this land, though he knew izel thought that she did. he was under no such illusion.