The Sentinels There were plants and birds and rocks and things

He heard the whisper of wind whistling in the woodlands, and found it reassuring. It made him expect to meet gentle folk in these parts, sheltered from both the blast of ocean air and sizzle of midday sun. Perhaps in kinder conditions, kinder wolves were born, ones whose only competition was with other predators, and not among themselves. 

He smelled another and was drawn closer by the idea that perhaps he might find someone who could direct him, counsel him, and teach him to live a gentler life. It was a romantic notion, really, but Tumbleweed believed in romantic things. 

His head bowed and his tail swayed to mirror the body language he saw in the other. He licked his chops, easing any tension from his lips as he pushed his whiskers forward. A keening whine was sent to appease the other, a gentle note of good spirit which intended to relinquish dominance in a heartbeat.