Frostfire Ridge Lands that call my name

Gunnar was thrown from his thrice dark thoughts, and plopped back to the land of the living, made safe to the sea and mountains. Where once youthful paws had traced, and ran. When his tongue had lolled and hung as he used his legs, his back and chased.

The small wolf, came upon him, and with eyes born from years of living, he traced over their scars, eyes the color of the sea. The sea always seemed to find him, perhaps that had been his cross to bear, born to the sea, return to the sea. He lowered his large body closer to the ground, curled his tail about his paws, though he kept his head above his shoulders. Black tipped ears shifted, lay flat and he waited.

They stalked him like a wayward creature, though not one to attack, no this one simply observed, they seemed to watch with wary happiness. 

"Sea wolf. What brings you towards this old man?" His voice quiet, demure, he hadn't meant a cruelty, no just asking after the wolf near him, who they were, what they were doing.