Seaside Moors I'm scared of the long nights and the darkness

Ever since that stormy day when the Rusalkans fled their home and regrouped on the plateau, Nieve felt like a part of herself was missing. She pined for the sound of waves crashing on the shore, the briny sea air, the cries of gulls. The sun gilding the horizon. Streams of mist thrown skyward by the cresting of distant whales. The longer they remained on the plateau, the more unlike herself she felt, culminating in a wolf on the fringes, unsure if she could even fit in with her pack anymore.

And then they announced a return to the sea, and it was like all of Nieve's verve and energy returned to her. The scout tore ahead of the others to explore their new location. At face value, it wasn't much. There was no familiar sand underfoot, no cool surf splashing over her paws, and no dim grotto to retire to when the sun was hottest. Snow still dotted the hilly landscape, concentrated beneath groves of trees and large stands of rocks. In fact, it was similar to the plateau, just with fewer trees and more hills. But just over the next rise she could see the twinkling bay curving off to the east, while dead ahead, spindly trees stood out against the white of the sand. Just beyond, the ocean itself.

Seaside Moors could've been a stretch of barren rock for all Nieve cared. Its proximity to the sea was all she needed to feel energized and whole. She raced across the moors, up and over hills, leaping spryly over budding shrubs, and allowed a crooning laugh to spill from her lips for the first time in ages.