Lefty drifted forward, picking over the sand of the ragged cove. Here, they felt a little -- strange. A little melancholy, but they couldn't help that. After all, they were... alone. Their family-- their
betrothed-- were both far away, now, and Lefty took no joy in that. They knew that life moved on, that things happened, that the world changed, but knowing this didn't do anything to assuage the tension in their gut, or the nerves that tingled in their paws.
Picking up the pace, kicking through the sand, Lefty glanced out to sea, observing the rise and fall of the waves. March followed in their tracks, skittering along behind the wolf, grunting and chewing on something that she'd picked up along the way-- some small mouse, perhaps. Lefty didn't think to check.
There, upon the edge of the water, Lefty tilted their head back and called out for their packmates. Their call was sorrow-tinged, and perhaps that would make the call for a spar understandable. They needed to polish off their skills, after all.
It would be a good way to fix their sorrowful mood.
"Speech"
