Gilded Bay don't go chasing waterfalls

Darkmoon hated the feeling of sand beneath his paws. It was grating and was difficult to move along, providing little purchase and giving away against purchase. He grumbled to himself as he trotted along, annoyed but hoping to find a stinking yet nutritious carcass washed up to shore. His search proved mostly fruitless, save for the odd dried up bird or shell he first had to break through. He soon gave up on those; they proved more effort than they were worth.
    Growing sick of the beach, the stand of gnarled trees at the edge of the beach beckoned to him. There, he could get away from the wind and sand before deciding on what next to do. He had spent the last three weeks moving down from the mountains to the coast, and had not yet found somewhere to take up residence. He had not come up against any other wolves - which suited him fine - but he also knew he could not stay alone forever.
    As he neared the trees, he noticed a silvery form layed out on the grass. It barely moved, and reeked of the sea. He turned his nose up at the stench, but moved closer to inspect it anyway. It did not take long for him to realise it was a wolf, and he stopped within a few steps. He lingered awkwardly, unsure of what to do. She seemed haggard, her coat unkempt and skin bruised. He did not know her and cared little for her health, but was curious as to how she had ended up there and what her story was. He cleared his throat as a way to announce his presence, had she not already noticed his approach.