Stavanger Bay sweet mother

The beach was a bit of a mess but the ocean was ever beautiful, alight in pinks, orange and yellow as day broke free from the night. With the debris, some of the creatures here did not sink as deep into the sand for cover, instead using rock, limb and brush. Aiolos lifted his forelegs onto a tree stump, rolling it over to look for what hid beneath.  A number of crabs, which he wildly began to chase and snap it, breaking there shells and getting snipped on the fluff of his cheek by one in the process. 

Aiolos lifts his head, shaking it wildly and sending the half dead crab flying. That's when he sees the other wolf making his approach. Fiery eyes narrow, locking on him, studying that familiar gait and golden eyes...

It was him. It had to be. Ovid. He was a collection of tawny, brown and cream coloration. He was shorter then Aiolos tall frame and yet, thicker built and, despite Aiolos' efforts in many spars, stronger. Aiolos had always been a man made of stamina and had after every defeat, got back up again and again. Ovid had taken him under his wing. Trained him, taught him the way of Nereides and had stood up for him a number of times before to take the punishment from the sirens in order to protect Aiolos. If anything, Aiolos owed this man alot. He was both a mentor and like an older brother. 

Ovid! Aiolos was a yearling all over again. When Ovid spoke, his words gruff and expression hardened as ever, Olo ran towards him in the same manner he had time and time before. He aimed to lift up onto his back legs, wrapping forelimbs around him and growling  as he snipped for the man's ears and cheek. Surely, to get a snappy reaction back as ever before.