Ankyra Sound prizes of the sea

The seasons may have changed, but a wintery nip still hung in the air. The cold breeze of the sea hit the mangy wolf like a brick wall as he descended the rocky cliff face down to the beach. He had finished his morning rounds, and this time he wasn't coming back empty handed.

A thick clump of alum root hung out of the ragged wolf's mouth. Heuchera micrantha, once crushed and wetted it could be applied to minor sores and swellings and used as an effective astringent on ulcers. The bitter root was very versatile indeed and the mangy rogue carried it with him with pride with the intent to take it back to his quarters and prepare it for storage.

Down the beach an unfamiliar wolf rolled in on the ground, caking himself in sand. Another friend of the dirt it seemed... and a male. In the sound, they were few and far between. The wolf was approached by one of the grey twins, Nesaea he thought, though it was difficult to tell the two apart. The raggedy wolf placed his bounty of roots atop a flat stone and approached the two with his head down (Oh how he hated these displays, but culture is culture, and the twins would view it blaspheme if the rogue behaved otherwise). "Beautiful morning," he mused with his tail between his legs, approaching the two.