Ocean's Breath Plateau won't give pause until the blood is flowing

The ocean whispered beyond the dunes. Lovecraft ascended amid gusts of coastal winds which stirred the sand in miniature cyclones all around him. His large paws guided him up the slope, the grip of rough leathery pads protecting his balance as the sand gave under his weight. Meanwhile, the whispering ocean grew furious in volume, roaring in his ears by the time he reached the summit of the dunes. 

It was then that the snowy beast beheld the sea for the first time. At once he was engulfed by the sight, his stomach dropping as it did when he sensed mortal danger. This was a different kind of fear; it was a humbling fear, because never before had he witnessed anything so vast, so powerful and so foreboding. The pewter water grew endless into the distance, halted only by the darkening evening sky. Lovecraft took in a breath of briney air and lifted his snout  into the wind, shaggy fur futher ruffled by the gusts. He spent the next few moments just smellling the air and feeling it billow coldly around him; then he opened his jaws and praised the ocean with a slow and mournful song.