Stavanger Bay new friends!

On the borders, not trespassing. @Smokestep

Fynn was sad. It was stupid of him to run away from his Human and now he had been wandering the Scary Wilds for over a month and his belly complained at him all the time. His frame drooped with ultimate sadness. He missed his Human and his other Doggo Friends. And even though he’d smelled Canines everywhere in this place, he had yet to meet any. And the smell was always drowned out by the sea anyways. He couldn’t even have fun splashing in the water because it was too cold. And it was drizzling today. What else could go wrong? Now on top of being starving, he was also wet. He had long fur like all Border Collies and it was getting tangled and covered in muck and wet sand and… and everything was terrible!

But after wandering through a scary dead forest (The Sentinels), the smell of Strange Canine was very strong on the wind. He perked up a bit, not realizing that many Wolves would consider him a threat, or food, and picked up his pace. Maybe today he would finally meet a real Wolf! Maybe one day he could go back Home and tell his friends that he had actually done it! Maybe it would make this whole month and a half worth it. As the scent grew stronger and stronger, he realized there must be more than one Wolf here. Excitedly, he let out a bark-howl. New friends!

In a rare case of self control, Tetsubo had come upon a strange creature and not known how to proceed with its extermination. He had been watching the darkly-coated almost-wolf for at least an hour now; it roamed about, but did not press further in to the territory, which meant he could not seek it out and defend the land quite yet. This put Tetsubo at odds with his own desires—these things which had been beaten out of him (or beaten in to him, you could argue) that told him to attack, to maim, to protect. He would sit and wait for orders, but until that point... The creature remained poised hungrily, watching, biding its time.
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Lounging in the sun had cast a sleepy state of mind over the pallid young man. He’d basked in the warmth for longer than he had intended, but only because of the tender tiredness that had washed over him. Summer was right around the corner, and Smokestep was eager to witness the luscious growth of foliage and fruit that would turn their stomachs to drunken goblets. The time of rum and grog was upon them, and the young Captain was eager to see that his crew drank up. He had found that the most trouble had been caused by a crew filled with grog and drunk on their own desires; the young corsair was eager to see what the Ironsea wolves would find in the coming months.
 
Rain poured down from overhead as he set out to trek along the borders of his claim. Those lengthy strides carried him across soft sands and splashing waters until his cupped ears caught the sound of a stranger on the edges of his bay. Furrowing his brow and searching, he pulled in the sight of a watchful slate Tetsubo, and then beyond that was a peculiar figure. The dog was smaller than he was, causing some concern to furrow his brow and curl his lips downward in a thoughtful frown. He had seen a young girl not too long ago, similarly shaped; the canine was so foreign to him.
 
“Ahoy there,” the Captain barked to the unfamiliar creature as he trotted to close some of the space. There was a portion of him that was grateful for the shape of the Bushido who waited for orders. If the strange creature on the edges of his land were to cause issue, Smokestep would be backed by the sharp fangs of the grey warrior.

Oh! There were one, no two! wolf friends over there! Dangerously, stupidly, Fynn barked with joy and crossed the boundary line of the territory. He shouted out towards them, “Hello hi I am Fynn! Are you wolves? Oh, you’re huge! My friends were right! Oh, wow, this is great!” He was drawing nearer and nearer, unaware of just how territorial wolves were, unaware that he may or may not be about to lose a good chunk of fur, if not his life, for trespassing into their territory. But Fynn was just a Good Dog. He did not understand the ways of his wild cousins.

He was never far from Smokestep; or truthfully believed himself capable of transporting his body across the bay if ever he was needed, and with speed. But when the Cairne appeared nearby Tetsubo could not help but curse at himself for being unaware. His charge appeared as a ghost. He rose from the sand and set off to intercept the strange thing that loitered nearby. The beast was urged by his sense of duty to follow, and it was a good thing he did—the not-quite-a-wolf was deftly defying rule of law, striding across the landscape and towards his young master. Tetsubo should have waited for orders but he saw the interloper as a threat, and was suddenly closing the distance and putting his bulk between Smokestep and the exuberant pet. He did not brandish his teeth yet—they were set in a grimace, a full compliment of sharp objects he could use in the coming moments, should the order arrive.
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