Stavanger Bay The sea runners

His hopes for an afternoon in seclusion were shattered as the silhouette began to mobilize. Tahoe's gleaming yellow visionaries bored into the tiny form, espying it meander uphill. He felt a twinge of satisfaction. Perhaps he'd get his indolent day on the beach after all. McBride's conclusion was premature, his frown deepening as the dot grew larger, signifying the lupine had changed course and was now impending arrival. A vexed huff escaped him; it wasn't too late to turn back. Yet, the midday sun's rays upon his back were too tranquilizing to abandon. He was seduced by the serenity of the bay, too subconsciously hypnotized to willingly let it evade him. He had traveled a great distance to come here, he felt as though he deserved to indulge in the fruits of his taxing labor. Kept in place by utter lethargy and obstinate will, he stared down at the newcomer till they paused a few lengths away. The fellow was splashed in varying tones of chocolate, peppered with flecks of charcoal and grays. Quite rudimentary. Most notably, they fashioned practically a single ear. The other one seemed to be reduced to more of a stub. Tahoe's own ears were quite a mangled situation, he wasn't one to judge. At least he still had both of them. The wolf gave a straightforward greeting, clear enough to be discerned amid the constant crash of ocean waves. Based on their decision to remain out of close range, he assumed this man was wary of him. A wise decision, they seemed more premeditated with their choices than most. 

Good afternoon. He echoed monotonously, his deadened stare holding strong.