He was heading back towards his den with a fish in his mouth. He was soaked head to toe in salt water from the ocean as he nabbed the fish. It took some time to get, so he certainly was not let off easy with getting wet. He was quite hungry after all that work though, but the sea seemed to have plenty of fish in it.

As he was marching back, he heard a call not far off in the distance. He stops and listens as he swears that he hears his own name. Who would be calling him? No one ever really called out for him ever. He turned his dark head with his fish in his mouth. He didn’t recognize the voice, and it even says they are friendly. He tilts his head curiously. What could this be?

He then turns and comes over a dune to see the younger boy running around. Was this who called him? He blinked. What the heck could this boy want? He still wanted his fish and there was no way he was giving it up. He sets the fish on top of the dune. It was too risky to speak to him closer to the ocean where the fish could get taken back to the sea.

”Over here,” he calls out with his thick Latin accent. He still protatveily stands over his fish, and growls at a pair of seagulls that landed near with this beady little eyes staring at his prize. He knows they will try and steal what is his...he doesn’t like to admit it has happened before. Yet he looks then to the younger wolf, and a slight smile crosses his lips at the pure energy the young one had as he waited for his response.