Iktome Plains you mean like all the cool kids with their leather jackets and their pickles.

Dash's ragtag band had settled into the depths of what was (ironically in Dash's opinion) called The Neverwinter Forest, but the boy quickly found that living with a thick canopy of trees above his head was not at all to his liking. It kept the warmth in, sure, but with the sky constantly obscured Dash found himself feeling trapped. Clausterphobic. 

Oceanwater ran in the boy's blood, or at least that's what Dash's parents had always told him. Perhaps that was why Dash felt himself drawn to the seaside, with it's wide-open beaches that stretched for miles and flat expanses of neverending water swallowed up by the horizon. There were beaches closer to Neverwinter, but they were occupied by other wolves, so if Dash wanted to visit the ocean he was forced to travel out here. Not that the boy minded the walk; he always had extra energy to burn, it seemed. 

Dash stopped in his tracks, lifting his gaze to scan out over the frosty plains grasses. He had not yet reached his destination, but movement at the corner of his vision had caught his attention. He had always been a hopelessly distractable creature. There! A weaving, progressing crease in the grasses betrayed the presence of another. Squinting, Dash thought he could make out some glimpses coppery-colored fur visible through the brush. He was a boy who had never really known a stranger, so he let out a friendly woof.