Sequoia Coast so long, little chapel

Sudden hollering detracted her focus immediately and gave her pause. Echelon's ears swiveled far quicker than her head did, though it did not take her long to spy out the figure that was making so much noise. Over the din of the ocean, his words came anything but crystal clear. He seemed to be searching, but for what? Ultimately, as his bleating died down (and bleating was exactly how she likened it), the yearling Tartok wolf slid her ears against the back of her skull for a moment. Not scowling, but almost. After a moment, they returned to their upright positions.

Echelon made no move to rush and greet him, but rather waited to see if she would be noticed at all. Unaware that he could not quite see her, a small part of her wondered if she had unknowingly stumbled into an ambush. A lone wolf, crying and carrying on along a stretch of seemingly abandoned beach… it didn't bode well. Her eyes remained on him, though she took careful note of the darkening timberline at her peripheral for movement out of the ordinary. The ocean she paid no mind to, as she did not believe anyone would come emerging from its depths to charge her. With a growl preparing itself in her throat as the wolf drew closer, the inky creature of Tartok bided her time carefully.