Ankyra Sound Always had high, high hopes

Time was a trivial thing; it was a concept created by those that came long before him, and it would likely survive long after him. Aningan was not that great at keeping track of time, however—he didn’t see what made doing so, so important. But changes were noted as the days went by. The passage of time was noticed in the shift of the days, as the cold slunk away and the heat crawled in to take its place. It was noticed in the way he grew, reaching high father’s height and filling out, and how his coat did not shed its thickness the same was as those around him. The changes were small, happening gradually and therefore seeming less drastic than what they truly were, but he noticed.

In the morning hours, before the sun had a chance to really settle in the sky, Aningan made his way towards the shore. Although the sand was warm even then, he braced it and promptly took to the water, standing only as far out as to allow the remnants of waves to slide around his wrists and ankles. The scent of the salt that tickled his nose with each passing breeze was all the more intense there within the water, yet his senses did not complain; truthfully, he had grown accustomed to the sting months ago. Desensitised to the ocean as a whole, he was allowed to relax and simply enjoy the cold water, as the sun climbed higher and higher overhead.