Ankyra Sound Any wind means we're running

Ah, he murmured, lingering. Got it. It was a word that might slip his mind later, a rare word that always escaped one's comprehension several hours after learning it, but for now it made sense. Unwelcome. For reasons he didn't understand, Ephraim felt that all non-Drageda wolves were unwelcome in Ankyra Sound. He didn't feel quite as possessive of the shattered coastline to the north or the fields to the east. There was just something about the beach that he couldn't put a paw on that made him covetous.

Setting off at a trot, the coywolf headed for the dark entryway, trying to ignore a snarl of thunder across the sky. A natural stone arch framed it and the rock at the base formed a natural step up to the cavern mouth, which was wide and curved away into darkness below. A cool draft carried the scents of fresh water and cool gravel up to his twitching nose. Seems cold, he opined, remembering the comfortable warmth of Hougeda. He hadn't been back to Drageda's rendezvous since returning, he realized. He would need to remedy that when they got home.

Wind, he noted, gesturing forward. It was faint, just enough of a breath to stir the tips of his whiskers. Must go somewhere else. Shall we, Rauna? The beach itself merited further exploration and where they went was Tux's call, but he figured a beach was a beach, and this was infinitely more interesting (to a geeky coywolf naturalist, anyway).