Sea Lion Shores metal and dust

The tinge of salt in the sea air was vastly different from anything that the wolfdog had ever scented before. There was a chill to the air that acted as a forewarning to the coming winter. Ankh had never endured frigid temperatures before. His life before the Teekon Wilds had been nothing but red rock and blistering sands. His youth had been comprised of heated days and frigid nights. It was unusual for him to taste the difference in the air. The ghostly figure moved along the shoreline with sanguine steps. Had the Pharaoh not been following the coast for the better part of three days, even the sight of the limitless ocean would have baffled him. He had prayed every night to the great Gods in hopes that they would shed light on what had led him to daunting stretch of new land. There had been no answer; Ankh took this as a sign that his venturing would not cease until they relinquished an answer. With each breath against the saline air, he hoped it would come soon. Pale eyes following the tossing of the waves as they beat against the ocean. They seemed to raise a cacophony of bizarre noise even as they pulled away from the haggard sands. Ankh’s gaze found a large mass moving in the distance near the base of where the water would meet the land. His sky wire ears were drawn forward out of interest. This floundering beast seemed intent on reaching the rolling waves. The Pharaoh watched, deadlocked, on the beachside. Ankh’s figure was tense, taut even in his thin tail. The boy had not been warned of the differences between his homeland and the outside world.