Nova Peak I’ve got a spirit made out of sand

The oceanic beast of a wolf was drawn away from the coast only when verdant life had returned to the interior, and it was only out of curiosity that he did so. It was only out of curiosity that he ever did anything. He had survived by the sea's many offerings thus far in his travels, but he'd accomplished nothing more. The Aloadae had eluded his search, and he had to wonder… but not at that moment. It was, in fact, the last moment he would consider the myriad possibilities of his own accord. He would simply find them, or he would not. His path was laid clear to do with as he would, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it had always been enough for them. Alone, however, Toxochelys was a ferocious guardian with nothing to guard. There was absolutely nothing to keep his utterly savage essence in check.
 
He had deliberately aimed his course for the nearest mountain, eventually intending to snag one of it's dextrous sheep and ferociously devour the meat in such a way as he hadn't in weeks. Already prowling the thick of the forest leading up to the peak, he languidly stretched out each well-muscled leg, practically basking in the scent of the evergreens and the quietude of isolation all around. Despite his sheer size, his footfalls remained nearly inaudible as he made his way among the mature and deeply green trees of the foothills. His eyes were sharp for smaller game to sate his fervent hunger in the interim, and the accompanying mental approach of the predator was that he would not be denied.