Stavanger Bay Running Towards a Place

The other wolf had spotted him first. The stranger's low greeting made him turn his head, ears perked attentively as he observed the man draw nearer. He was a formidable figure indeed, cloaked in a palette of blackish blues to greying whites—the manifestation of moonlight reflecting off of a dark midnight's ocean. The wolf's gait had not the haste of an attack, but instead a more formal nonchalance. For being so close to a border, he had expected the contrary. Then again, this border seemed newly established. McBride couldn't help but to ponder about the situation. Whatever the case, he wanted to know more. Uncovering the happenings which had occurred in his absence truly brought out his investigative nature. As the sea churned behind him, he strode forth and met the foreign man halfway; ensuring his voice was not lost amidst the waves. 

He gave a slight nod in salutation. You live 'round here? The man asked simply.