Stavanger Bay stomp on it 'til it breaks

Charon seemed annoyed with him, but didn't say anything about it. Levi wasn't used to adventures or going off looking for things. He was a wolf who stayed home, stayed put, who did not have the characteristic Ostrega wanderlust in his veins. Perhaps that came from his mother's side, then, his ability to sit still and listen, to learn and be curious at home, rather than want to wander far and wide, like Charon seemed to always do.

Then his brother exclaimed for him to "come on!" and ran off, leaving Levi in the dust. The greyscale boy watched his brother run off before following at a slower trot, ears swiveling in every direction, caution signs blaring. They were deep in the Bay's territory and would not be harmed by outsiders, but Levi was never too careful. Sometimes he hated that about himself.

Charon was chasing and running from the waves as they rolled in and out, batting at the foam the sea left behind. Levi smiled then, jumping into the thick wet sand at the shoreline, and sank a few inches as the waves rolled over his ankles, splashing up his legs and licking his belly. He giggled, lifting one foot with a wet squelch, and flung the sand at his brother's pristine fur.