Cerulean Cape All that sound

I couldn't find the BWP forecast for today so I just assumed more rain

The seas were rough that day at the Cape. The sky hadn't cleared during daylight, but Taikon had not been awake to see it. The white wolf had risen just when the sun was dipping low on the horizon. Sea spray and cloud cover coloured everything a dirty grey. This dull and wet attitude was all that life seemed to have in store for the wolves of the Wilds. Many had lost everything. Taikon had lost out before the game had even begun — his taste of sunshine had ended abruptly and there seemed to be no hope of improvement.
To help brighten his spirits, Taikon had decided to get the blood flowing by chasing sandpipers around the beach. The birds did not find his games particularly fun, wishing only to pluck sea lice from the sand. As he flew down the sandbars, the birds would fly only a short distance away before returning to their chosen hunting areas.
It didn't take long before the sand on his feet tired him, and he lay down on the beach, watching the birds go back to their work cleaning the sand of insects. Resting his head on his paws, he sighed. Another drizzle started, but rather than moving to find shelter, he just stayed. It all seemed rather pointless. Wet or not, there was no longer reason to his life.