He'd taken a liking to the sea. Long stretches of land, good visibility and a pleasant enough background noise to fill the silence. The sun was well on its way, a thin slither of light poked out from beyond the horizon and so the black sand was cool enough to walk on without burning his paw pads. Ronan's cursory glance of the place confirmed his suspicions that this place wasn't frequented much at all, though he couldn't say for sure why. Maybe the sea was rough more often than not? He had swum to the islands offshore once, seasons ago, and it had been an unpleasant crossing. But the land here itself seemed fine, lots of room to wander, had Ronan itching to stretch his legs.

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The sun had fallen, though light still hung on the edge of the horizon, refusing to fully die and give way to the blissful evenings that he loved. The smell of salt invaded his nose before he had even reached the sand, and, much to his surprise, this beach lacked the creams and browns that one was said to find. His first beach bore sands of black, and as Neptune took a step into it he realized that sand didn’t just look different, but how it moved and shifted under his hooves was different too. His hoof didn’t sink terribly far into it, but it was still an odd sensation all the same. Deep pools of silver lifted to the stretch of sand and, further along the beach he saw the motion of a predator on the move. This one was different, though. Neppy lifted a brow, curiosities keeping him from running away. Instead he walked in the direction of the wolf, not moving closer yet seeming to run parallel with it, gaze focused on the stranger in wonder. What in the name of the heavens were on its legs…?

Ronan could say he was equally unfamiliar with this creature as it was to him. Where he came from there weren't a lot of herbivores about, least of ones as large as this beast. Tall and leggy, with hooves and an elongated, almost rectangular face. He regarded the stranger for a moment longer, ears flicking in consideration.

"Can you run fast?" He asked the creature, speaking loud enough to carry across the space between them, he didn't entirely blame him for not getting close; Ronan knew what he looked like. It was an invitation though, one the beast could refuse or accept, but Ronan found himself curious. For all his bulk and pointed edges he moved faster than many realised he could, often to their own detriment.

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