Dragoncrest Cliffs Arowana

It was another overcast day. Grey clouds loomed overhead and locked out any signs of sunlight or warmth. The summer air that used to roll in with the sea had gone. The winds were colder, sharper, and they cut with their touch.

Swordfish had found a place on the beach where he hunkered down behind a beached log. It was large enough that he could crouch, and the wind would be blocked from slicing through his coat. The young wolf would need some time before his full winter coat grew in. He was still young, and his figure had grown to be long, gangly, and susceptible to the cold.

A pair of gulls flapped down and began to squawk at each other. One pecked at the other. Swordfish scowled at them, unamused. Their noise made him want to leave. When one of the birds took off and vanished into the grey, the young wolf lifted his head and scanned the beach for signs of a familiar shape.