Ankyra Sound Dead doesn't mean gone

He limps forward, the tides a toil with three legs, then folds down on the ridge of foreshore to capture his breath.

He feels the eyes before sight discerns there is a figure there with him on the beach, a wolven shadow who stares with two pale beacons. A mainlander.

He does not flee, or tuck his tail in the fear which once ordained him- only lifts slowly his muzzle to take in an interweaving fragrance carried through the wind.

He senses there is a mystery. Are they waiting for him?