The Tangle most of your facial features are in the right place

He blinks, unbothered by her skittishness. If it is skittishness -- he doesn't really care either way. He does not wag his tail in return but his expression remains calm and open, in no rush to move toward her. When she speaks, recognition flickers in his near-black eyes. There is only one cliffside sea pack. 

"Drageda," he confirms, tilting his head slightly. He wonders if he should be more wary, given the tense relationships between the coastal packs right now, but she does not smell of any other pack nearby. She doesn't smell of anything he can recognize. "You are from one of the others, oui? Trigeda?" It would not be the first time one of theirs came here, though Étoille does not know much about all of that.