Ankyra Sound salt in the wound

Edmund didn't want to loiter for long among the wolves of Drageda, mostly because he was starting to feel bored with their natural tendency to exclude him; it wasn't their fault he didn't understand their language or their way of life, and he wasn't hurt by it. He didn't often feel things and, as far as he knew, they weren't doing it out of spite (because for Edmund spite did not exist).

But he busied himself, since he needed to prove his worth. While in the territory he'd spied a massive stretch of beach from a cliff-side vantage point and was eager to discover it, so that's where he decided to go today. He left the ridge and headed west, feeling more confident when the sand gave way to grass and gravel, and then a little irritated as his path descended through some foothills until the sand returned. 

He crept along until there was sand all around him; from here, in the center of the sound, he could make out the dark clouds on the horizon competing with the deep blue of the sea. He could see washed-out stonework carved by the tide, and set his mind on investigating the area. There was a lot of dry seaweed, and what he thought could've been ice layered across it, but a flick of his tongue told him it was a layer of salt crystals. It tasted awful. 

Edmund deeply regretted this trip, suddenly. He wished there was something for him here. If he returned to the pack empty-handed (so to speak) then that wouldn't prove much to the commander or the other wolves, and he refused to be seen as a waste of space.