His dark coated hand laced his fingers through the short static mane that lined his head and neck. Beyond the stoic face, and the relaxed pasture the youth was nervous and uneasy. The call of the ocean begged him to be calm, calling for him to join the rhythmic rolling of its waves instead of feeling the thunderous unsteady beat of his heart. Both could be felt in the depths of his chest and heard in his ears. He didn’t like the sensation, it was far too close to fear, but it was the sort of fright he could not fight. It could only be shaken from his body and buried deep beneath the far more delightful anticipation. Bury it deep, the yearling spoke to himself.
Back strait the boy collected himself, readying for the inevitable disappointment of the empty cabin that he was about to find. He was sure that she would be gone, and a mixture of relief and despair suddenly came to him. Burying it deep beside all the rest of the emotions he refused to show or even feel, Heath felt his pace slow. Dark nose against the wind, there was something that spoke of the land and the new ownership that it was so obviously under. Gold eye widened as he heard a voice, but the surprised looked easily erased before turning to face the unknown man. He was the scent of meat, sharp liquor and of women, all decreasing in intensity as he noticed each. The lone hybrid stood before him, giving a sharp and gruff ”Hey”.
It took a brief moment to realize who this was, and the importance of his presence. He was standing on this beach, claiming this land (or Heath so assumed). The tawny, black accented male could not help but let the smile tease the corners of his mouth. He was a dog, that was obvious, whose domesticated features were like a punch strait to the face. Not even mentioning the lost limb, he was an interesting looking beast. Too busy taking in every detail of the best friend to a woman he remembered with an oddly innocent fondness, Heath spoke no more then the greeting.