The small woman steps into the sand with a look of delight on her face. She steps out as far as she feels comfortable, the water just gently brushing over the tips of her paws on occasion. Mr. MacConin doddles behind her, barking about the dreariness of this place. But Nainseadh can only hear the sound of the waves and the birds. Her toes wriggle in their place, examining the sand.
The beaches of home were rocky and far from the surface. More like cliffsides that Mr. MacConin kept her very far away from. Here she was in no such immediate danger, so she knew he wouldn't have the heart to stop her.

What color is the sand? She coos, her head turning in the last known location of her father.

The badger seems exasperated but, takes another glance around before answering her. "Black as the Earl of Hell's waistcoat!" He barks.

She smiles again, now in awe at the idea, though she would never be able to properly picture it. Even if she spent all day trying.

Her head turns and her ears perk up, a bodily reaction that occurs much sooner than the badgers. His little black and white body finally turns in surprise and defense the moment the stranger speaks, all spikey and puffy and full of badger-blood.

Nain's smile fades to something of gentle surprise and a bit of concern. She tries to listen closely for a quickening of footsteps or sharpness of breath.

The two stand generally uneasy, both displaced strangers with only themselves. Though she opens her mouth, the badger is the first to speak up.

"Noo jist haud on thar biggun!" He barks, his body making small hops across the sand, trying to mark a line between the stranger and his little gal.

Nain's face looks to him, she wonders if the strange woman is very large or if Mr. MacConin is very silly. Relating to the rest of her life, she wishes to assume the latter.

Hello. The woman chirps, her face shining beyond the darkness of the beach and its dreary scene. She can hear Mr. MacConin shuffle slightly, his little paws filled with betrayal as he tosses a glare that she bears no witness to. He seems easily defeated by the gentle smile she so happily gives.

The woman seems gently surprised to be spoken to so directly. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen Mr. MacConin, but rather that his ruffled feathers and bitey tone were of no importance to her.

Nain shakes her head.
Ney, only we are quite lost. She chirps, her voice quickly interrupted by that of the badger's.

"ONLEH A TAD." He barks confidently. Truthfully they had no clue at all where they were, or why, or where their home had gone. They simply awoke in the woods, sharing the same positions they had when they fell asleep, and found themselves in a place that had never seen before. No familiar smell on the wind, no mountain ranges that lead towards home. Even the stars were different.

The 'Scarlet Circle' ye say... Nain plays with the name on her tongue. Was that the name of this beach? But she thought Mr. MacConin and had said the sand was black.

Are ye a pack of some kind? She questions, curiosity in her tone.

The badger paces back and forth like some kind of foot soldier.

The woman seems unsure on her feet for a second, shifting her weight uncomfortably.
We don't... really have a destination... A sense of lost and longing in her voice. They felt displaced, entirely anew and at the same time unwelcome. Encountering angry animals in the woods, other wolves who barred their passage, it felt like the first time ever going to a gathering.

Mr. MacConin didn't seem to mind it, as long as he was with his kid. Feelings of pride and fear over her acts of bravery and rebellion become more frequent. He hated what they had done to her, but wished only the best.
Now, he looked at her face with a mixture of guilt. Maybe he felt like he was the one to get her into this mess, though neither of them had any control over such universal magic.

Her blind eyes lit up at the brow, as if they already didn't look like the morning sky, at the stranger's explanation. It must be cool to be a part of something with other wolves. Nain loved her father, of course, but she did always point her ears towards the fields to listen when the other pups played.

Prompted for her name, the woman tilted her head in bashful way. It wasn't too often that she got to share it with a stranger.

Nainseadh. And this is my father, Stewart.

The badger made a small bounce in the sand to turn himself around in haste. All short and lacking of neck.

"Mr. MacConin, ef ye would." It seemed he preferred to stick to traditions and formalities.