Stavanger Bay all of my guilt and the way that i'm built, i don't sleep so well

Embry was usually awake before dawn, soaking up every inch of the fading stars upon the silken pattern of the spreading ocean. Today was not one to contest this tendency. Once again, he found himself traipsing along the pristine homeland, content in simply pouring his soul and mind into the symphony of the shoreline. He needed that rhythm again.

The water morphed from an inky void to capture, in glassy chambers, the rays of the rising sun. Upon this fragile moment, Embry detected the scent of his leader nearby; such a new and yet familiar touch upon his senses that it seemed to pluck him to all-fours, sending him drifting across the lengthy strand. It was comforting to see the brute at work on strengthening borders, and, as he approached, he felt a sense of guilt at having not been more attentive himself to the task. However, the sight of a stranger was enough to mar such other concerns, so that as he approached his superior, his aquine gaze was dappled with a faint apprehension. 

Nevertheless, the two were not exactly at eachother's throats. Embry could tell from what he gathered on the short trek over that Ford was in no way discomfited. Good, he thought, so it must not be that hole-riddled boy. For it was certain that should his former enemy-turned-tyro have appeared in such a way as before, matters would not have been so tranquil. He lightly brushed shoulders with the fellow wolf of the rift in greeting. 

Embry did not address the fae when the distance was closed, but his eyes perhaps managed such means of introduction for him. They studied the submissive attitude of the girl with impassive scrutiny. He would wait for Ford to make further advancements.