There is something about a lazy summer day that screams naptime at the shoreline. It behooves him to set aside his worries and his grudges and just bask upon the cool sand, let the sun warm his coat and the whisper of waves to lull him into the pleasant limbo between wakefulness and sleep. For the first time in a while, Quixote finds the stillness and the clarity of mind to reflect. Instantly, his thoughts turn to the petite, turquoise-eyed lady whose wellbeing has haunted him incessantly since he was pulled from her side — no, that isn’t accurate. Even if he was back in Taviora, tending to her as was his will, he would still worry. He would just have the fortune (and misfortune) to witness her ups and downs, and only ideally be able to help her. He was no healer, but he could have kept her fed and comfortable. He prays Zelda found someone to care for her in his absence, and finds himself only marginally worried that same someone has come to replace him entirely (she had seemed more like herself after her pups were birthed, but he still didn’t entirely understand her shifting moods and whims).

Then comes Coquette, and he can’t help the bittersweet smile that curls upon his lips. That she has blossomed in Moladion is obvious. Even here where he has sulked alone, avoiding contact as he had in Taviora, Coquette found herself a little playmate. As much as it makes him proud, it tears a hole in his heart knowing she could have flourished like this in their birth pack – would have even – had he not tried to shelter her. She has always been a social butterfly, both kind and wise. As Dream Speaker, she would have needed the distance (he had thought) to see the Dream without bias, so he as upcoming-alpha convinced their peers to keep their distance from her. He had stifled her. It was no wonder she is mad at him, even if it were for the wrong reasons. He hadn’t meant to leave her so alone, but in his absence she could see the world as it was and not as he deemed it for her. Why did she not hate him?

The first call startles him awake, erasing the musings from his mind. He has only the time to lift his head and perk his ears toward the sound before another joins in. He rises, pausing only to shake the sand from his fur, before striding off after this curiosity. He keeps low, using the curving dunes and the spindly grasses to help hide in the otherwise flat open world. His amber eyes peer cautiously at the duo, caught between the want to investigate and the wariness instilled from so much solitude. The smaller of the two seems the most enthusiastic, bounding with pup-like enthusiasm though she appeared around the same age as he. The other was tamer, or at least more mature – neither looked as though they intended any harm and neither of them smelled of the beach-wolves. He slides out from his cover, curiosity sufficiently piqued. "It’s not every day I am summoned by strangers." He muses amiably, his head tilting casually to the side as he approaches. "Am I correct assuming you plan to end our little beach stay?" The thought is exciting. Perhaps, whatever their plan, this would give him the opening he needs to slip off and find Paisley?