The Sentinels no roots

Embry appreciated his companion's patience and surged a few times around the waters, relishing the gentle sway of the tide against his fur. Only when he was satisfied did he realize that it was winter, and there was snow on the outskirts of the Sentinels, and that he looked rather vacuous there in the icy water. He might as well be inviting illness into his body. 

Memories of his mother ushering him from the gelid shore flooded his thoughts as he picked his way back up the sand; dragging his sopping coat along. He gave it a loose shake as soon as he was free of the frigid depths, though he made sure it wasn't with enough vigor to assail his friend, who, to his delight, seemed to have a hint of a smile upon his face.

Embry trotted towards where this stranger's trail across the sand ended, and it was here that he sank gratefully into the sun-touched beach. It soaked up what remained of his sodden pelage; embracing his body like no other floor on earth. His gaze never left the ocean, however, throughout this ordeal. He couldn't trust himself not to lose it should he glance away, and so his orbs were locked on the brilliance of the shining surf. 

He was content with just sitting there, and saying nothing.  The ocean was all the conversation he needed, after all. Yet, he felt as though he owed this kind wolf some sort of introduction since he himself had been willing to share so much. 

"My name is Embry," he publicized, his voice softer at first than intended. For being so large, he could often be very pacific in nature. "You must be the leader of this Stormrift you speak of."