Galen stomped a foot into the sand with force. Bending the sand to his will, he compressed the particles into a much more consistent, more rigid structure, directed at the only possible hiding spots nearby: the edge of a small grove several meters away. With the ground underneath him now much easier to stand on, he looked back towards the wolf, asking "Has she always been this paranoid of people? She seems to be fine with you so far."
He bent a small amount of sand into the air above his right palm, slowly fluctuating its shape with a minor amusement. Galen hadn't seen sand within the city in a long time, let alone get a chance to bend it.