Blackwater Islands Stabbed to death outside of San Juan

Hoping for a wild @Salish, but anyone is welcome! Mind if we use this as a naturalist thread? Whip is perplexed by the tides.

There were many powerful forces of nature that went without a proper explanation. Like, why did the sun rise each morning? And, what brought about the different seasons? Whip thought of these things often, and sometimes, without the proper tools and education to understand these processes in full, one just had to chalk these natural forces up to some type of magic -- far beyond the realm of wolf comprehension. Many times, Whip told himself that things were they way they were simply because that was the way they were. However, there was something that had snagged Whip's attention as of late.

The beach never remained the same size. It was as if the land were constantly in flux. In the early afternoon, the beach had been long -- stretching into the place where the sea once ruled. But after returning in the evening from a walk in the Thistlewood, the tide had returned and the land had once again been covered by water. It had done this every day. Every single day, and he had no idea why. Whip stared out to sea with an expression wrought with confusion.

Obviously, the sea was alive. There was no other answer.