Ankyra Sound Sweet dreams are made of this

Her raise in posture was met tit for tat - he replicated her tail height with a heightening of his own, though he did not advance closer. Instead he chose to study her, sizing her up - beknownst to him, that is exactly what his mother would have done as well. Raise the stakes and bluff - and bluff - and bluff - until the enemy either thought you were crazy and retreated, or until the enemy attacked. And then you retreat, fast -- good thing long legs "coincidentally" ran in the family.

She was his antithesis; where he was black with ash interrupting his back, she was black with ash spread across her chest. She seemed well-groomed and cared for, while he seemed erratic and a mess. His yellow gaze met hers for a moment. It was not quite in challenge, but there was no fear in his bold gaze either. Why should she trust him? He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "You shouldn't."

"But I was born here." He stated matter-of-factly. It was true; he had spent the first two months of his life here. He did not remember much beyond the familiar curve of the grotto -- but he had recognized the beach when he saw it. "Where is everyone?" He assumed she was part of Saltwinter, and that maybe they had just grown slack in their patrolling and marking.