If the sand would stop its shifting, he’d be glad for it. But when the sea came in and pulled pieces away, he would lose his progress and have to start all over again, and get a nose full of seawater to boot. Which, wasn’t the greatest feeling in the world, and especially when he could feel the grains of salt and sand sticking to his nostrils.

Richter sneezed, using one leg to rub his nose and only succeeding in inhaling more seawater. Another sneeze rocketed from his nose, this one louder and a touch honk-ish. With an aggrieved sniffle, he looked back down at his work. The large conch was half buried even still, and the saturated sand around it playfully tried to pull it deeper. A vehement snarl broke from his chest, as he bowed his legs and got to work all over again. The ocean was coming, and he absolutely needed this shell. Right now. As in, now now. Finally, he unearthed enough to grab with his teeth, and brace for the ocean to slap him straight across the face. Which it did. With a vengeance. Blinking saltwater from his eyes, Richter hauled the large, pink-peach shell from its resting place, streaming saltwater and sand. It was perfect, and he was as gentle with it as he would be with a child. He hobbled a few steps forward, careful as anything, before he scoped the beach to find his companion. He just had to see this.

’rroa! His voice may have been muffled by the shell, but it was still loud enough to carry in the cove they’d found themselves in.

Swathed in salty breezes and bathed in the warmth of the ceaseless sun, Lorroakan waded through the shallows with vibrancy. The fur on his slender limbs soaked, stuck and clinging. His chest damp, his underbelly hairs kissing the calm surface of the clear waters. It was bliss!

And in a way he can't quite understand, there's a sense of longing. A remembrance of a place he cannot fully envision in his minds eyes, but rather a warmth and reminisce that made his chest feel fuzzy. As if at one time in his life, he'd been here before. Or perhaps a cove just like it.

Home. It reminded him of a fractured memory home he desperately wishes to recover. Splintered memories through eyes young and naive of sprinting through the shallows, desperate to keep up with two wolves he can only assume were his rowdy older brothers.

They'd tease him for not being able to keep up, or startle him as he'd watch shiny little fish kiss his feet. There was a woman's voice, too, that felt like a warm hug. His momma.

Now, he shares the coast with an unlikely companion, of which he'd lost track of long ago with the rise of the sun. Lorroakan churns through the warm waters with a quiet, calm smile. Grasped gently in his teeth was a strand of slimy, salty seaweed.

On the horizon and in the distance, he sees and hears Richter coming toward him. With a wet, swaying tail, Lorroakan clumsily gallops from the shallows, his feet kissing the soft sands as he meets the man halfway.

Riftchter! His voice is muffled. His eyes wide with wonder, as it seems they'd both met each other with gifts! Richter's was far more glorious. A beautiful, smooth conch that makes Lorroakan's chest feel tight with another pang of longing.

Spitting the seaweed to the sand, he excitedly pushes his way into Richter's space, his smile beaming. How beautiful! By the stars, where did you find this?

That now familiar voice rose over the sound of the ocean around them, and he drifted towards it like it was siren song. He pranced the last few steps, dipping into a playful bow to present his gift.

’fer ‘u! Again, muffled with the shell between his teeth, before he very gently rested the shell between them both. Lorroakan was almost on top of him again, and despite the way his heart skipped several beats and began to seemingly try to claw out of his chest, he kept his composure through sheer determination and excitement. His wet tail gave several hollow smacks as it met the back of his thighs, his mouth open and panting.

Waterline over there had loads of shells! This was the biggest one, and the prettiest, but there was so many! I dug it out of the sand. He turned his head to the side to sneeze again, before looking back.

I got saltwater up my nose, but look at it! It was worth it. Especially to see the excitement on his companion’s face. Then, Richter peered over Lorroakan’s head, spying the tangled mass of seaweed, and letting out a curious noise.

What did you find? He’d never been to the ocean before, at least in a way he could remember, but he left the shorter man with the shell and moved to prod the plants with a paw.

Plants? Are they like herbs?

As if the conch was a star that'd fallen from the heavens, Lorroakan examined it with wide-eyed awe. A sand-caked paw cradled the shell, the surface smooth beneath his fingertips. Soft blush in color, if only a little weathered from its life spend buried beneath the sand; it's the most beautiful gift he'd ever received!

He cradled it was if it was something precious. And to him, it is. He couldn't remember a time anyone in his life — past or present — had given him such a trinket. A treasure. Perhaps to others it's a simple thing. But to him, it meant the world. It made his heart feel full and warm and—

Maybe a little sad, because it reminds him of something he cannot name or remember. An aching feeling that feels as old as time, but hurts just like a fresh wound. He liked to imagine that whatever his past was, that he had a trove of shells just like this.

While he's scheming on this shell joining them for the rest of their adventures, Richter prods at the seaweed Roa had fetched from the shallows. He turned with a smile, his damp tail swishing in the sand.

It's seaweed! It's good for your heart, if I remember correctly. Has loads of vitamins and minerals. He rambled. Then, his smile curled playfully. It tastes terrible, but it is good for you.

Lorroakan rose to his clumsy feet, swooped head down to gently take the lip of the conch's shell into his teeth. He trotted over to the swaying grasses that bordered the sand, placed it down reverently, made a mental note of where it was so he could collect it again when they depart.

Hey, Richter? Have you ever fished before?

Good for the heart, huh?

Well, he supposed as he prodded the weed with his nose, he did need that. And probably to get to his heart, he’d need to eat it. (Richter was smart, yes, but anatomy was not his strong suit. He fully believed it would get to his heart if he ate it.) Just as he bit through a piece, Lorroakan’s voice stopped him. Tastes bad, his companion said, and he was struck dumb for a moment, seaweed hanging from his mouth like he was a particularly wolf-shaped cow. He looked at the plant, then back to the other man, then to the plant again. And his nose wrinkled back as the taste finally punched through the stupification of his companion’s words. It tasted like he’d just bit into the ocean itself, concentrated into something slimy and wet like the most unpleasant pasta in the world. Richter gagged around the salt, teeth catching on something crunchy (why was it crunchy? Wasn’t it a weed?) before he finally flung the remains from his mouth and onto the sand. He used his paw to scrape his tongue, but really only succeeded in getting sand in his mouth.

By the time he was done spitting and making a scene about sand in places it shouldn’t be, Roa had asked him a question. Richter tipped his head, letting his eyes roll back as he thought. Had he ever been much of a fisherman? He prodded at the empty spaces where memories lingered, but came up empty around each corner. Wherever he’d come from, it hadn’t had much in the way of fishing.

I can’t remember ever fishing. Maybe I tried and failed and forgot? I have no idea. He padded across the sand to stand beside the smaller man, tilting his head to look down at him.

You a good fisher?

It's with growing amusement hardly contained between quiet giggles he watched his companion scarf down the strand of sand-coated seaweed. He tried not to laugh, as it wasn't himself to take pleasure in the discomfort of others...but he couldn't help himself. Not when Richter began to hack it back up like a cat relieving itself from a hairball.

By the stars—I told you it wouldn't taste good! He wheezed between laughter. Perhaps his companion was a little too...eager. A tad too curious. Roa would keep an eye on him, in case he decided to scarf down anything else that would harm far worse than the slimy taste of the sea.

When they're beside one another again, that peculiar feeling of loneliness fades. The sad is washed away with the tide, replaced by the warmth of a friend. He hummed softly as he reached out to pick a piece of mangled seaweed from the man's neck fur, before he bumps his shoulder against Richter's forelimb and began his dance back toward the shallows.

I think so, He murmured. Truthfully, he couldn't quite remember. He knew he grew up on the coast side...so he must have some experience, right? He's hoping it's a skill that will reveal itself in time, as he stepped into the warmth of the sea to track the little silver fish that dance between his feet.

I have a feeling that I wouldn't be the worst at it. Would you like to try? He smiled at the man from over his shoulder, his damp tail swaying with invitation.

After I was already chewing on it! Came the wry complaint, as Richter allowed his tongue to loll out from between his incisors. He put on his best pouting face, letting his ears wilt to the side in what he hoped was a truly pitiful display. He even made big dumb cow eyes for all of a moment, before the act fell apart like a house of cards and he found himself snickering with Roa.

It tasted like salt. And fish. Bad fish. Rotten in the sun for three days fish. And it was so slimy, why was it slimy! A jolt rocked through him as their shoulders met, but Lorroakan was pushing on into the shallows, and Richter was following close behind. He bobbed his head with the waves, the motion making him mildly dizzy as he tried to both listen to his companion and keep an eye on the water for any shine of scales.

I’unno if I’d be much help to you. I really don’t even know if I can swim, truth be told. He stared at the water lapping at his legs, then over to the other man again.

Hey, why don’t you show me how you’d do it, and I’ll try. That way he’d have some sort of template to build off of.