Ankyra Sound Marigold

The beach, on that bleak day, was a place of desolation. The sand stretched out like a canvas of death, bleached and wind-swept, while the sky above was a pale imitation of blue, a washed-out cerulean that offered no warmth.

The sun was but a vague memory, hidden away behind a veil of wispy clouds. The ground below was chilled and damp underfoot, a reminder of the frigid emptiness that surrounded it. There were no scents of a pack claim, no joyful shrieks of children at play in the sand. Instead, the only sounds were the low, mournful moans of the sea, and the occasional cry of a seagull circling overhead.

But there was something else on the beach that day, something that should not have been there. It was a dark shape, hulking and ominous, like a beast waiting to pounce. A large wolf with fur like red cedar. He prowled the shoreline without purpose or companionship, his senses alert to every sound and movement.

The wolf was alone, and had been for countless days. He did not expect to break his solitude, to find anything of worth in the endless sands that stretched out before him. But when he saw the flaxen wolf-girl at the edge of the water, he knew. He knew that he had to reach her, to feel the warmth of her fur against his own, to remember what it was like to be alive.

He walked faster, his nostrils flaring in reach for the scent of her. There was no doubt in his mind. He just wanted to refresh his memory. Six months had passed since the last time he saw Reverie. Riordan had believed that he would not see her again, but fate had other plans. And now, as he closed in on her, he knew that this day would bring an end to his isolation.