Seaside Moors Thirty point three hours

Here is a stretch of land Deimos has never seen before. It's long, and flat. Along the edges of its windswept plains there's water that seeps into the soil. Shrubs dot the landscape, writhed by the constant buff of seaside wind. There is a wolf meandering between the knolls, an evenly made creature that almost blends in with the grey of the Moors. He's not too tall, not too short - his fur is well kept and his ribs layered with a healthy amount of fat.

If he is a loner, it's clear he has not been one for long.

Deimos continues picking his way across the Moor, and anyone could notice he does it with care to his step. He's not a fan of water, or beaches. He doesn't even like ponds that much, so why is he here?

The answer to that question is long and complex, maybe better saved for another time.