[attr="class","khaltable"]A sharp breeze nipped at the tom’s thick pelt; his armor against the cold howling winds and thrashing waves. It was always colder on the beach than anywhere else. But he didn’t appear to mind. His eyes strayed to the waves, watching as they broke against the sand and frothed a salty foam. His nose wrinkled, detesting the feeling of wet paws, wet fur, or just…Wet in general. Houndspark intentionally kept well away from the waves, staying up upon the rocks where the waves couldn’t touch him.

A voice erupted his thoughts. It was soft. A mumble. Barely audible among the angry waves. But he had still heard it. The tom shifted his copper eyes off the water. A she-cat came into sight. She held a delicate, feminine appearance. Her dainty white pelt seeming like a stark contrast from himself. Cranefeather. He didn’t know the she-cat well, but of course he knew her. He knew all the cats in Canopyclan. Houndspark approached, striding his way towards her with his great big rounded paws. He didn’t speak a word of a greeting, but he nodded to her, sending her a rather half-assed smile. He wasn’t one for introductions. They always felt a bit funny to him. Why smile and greet those you saw every-sunrise, if not several times in one sunrise? Did you have to say hello at every passing? Or every single moment you saw them?

“No luck with the prey today?” He eventually asked as he got within earshot, his eyes lingering to the feline’s empty jaws and paws. No snack in sight, it seemed.