Galilee had always loved the sea. One of her earliest memories was seaside, and she had been probably six months old at the time. Her parents had left the shelter of the packlands and took their young family on a meandering journey down to the waterfront. The holiday had lasted nearly a week. Galilee and her four siblings had played puppy games on the sandy beaches and their mother taught them to fish in the shallows. At night, their father built bonfires from driftwood, and the young family fell asleep watching the strangely-colored flames flicker in the moonlight.
That was long ago, and the people in those memories were far away. Galilee hadn't yet begun to miss the family-pack she'd recently left, but she did miss her siblings. The jet-black wolf wasn't surprised when she found herself on a beach, despite the winter season. She jogged slowly through the damp sand, carefully picking her way around scattered rocks, shells, and driftwood. A sound caught her attention and she shifted her course slightly. Then, around the next bend another lupine came into view, silver and stumbling. Unsure, Galilee called out a casual "Hello there!" before approaching.