Stavanger Bay i've never believed

a neverending storm brews upon the choppy sea waters; crashing upon the shore with furious roars, splattering taisun with salty sea spray and sand carried by the defiant winds. the sand has begun to coat his tongue, gritty and coarse. if taisun had to guess that is undoubtedly what he looked liked period. windswept and crusted with dried seawater and sand. still, he keeps going. still, he does not steer off course. he isn't sure where he's heading ...only that he doesn't, currently, plan to leave the coast. instead; he seeks sanctuary further in the territory, turning his back upon the raging sea to find a place within the bay's ash forest that might offer him some shelter, if nothing else.

Coming to the coast felt like being home. Since she had started moving along the beaches again, however, she had been on high alert for wolves. Most of her interactions with the canids had been positive experiences, but she knew that the rains had displaced many. The cat was in no rush to greet such pack wolves that patrolled the coast lines, and hoped she'd run into none.

That day, she had brought down a small doe grazing among the ash trees in the bay. The storm had blinded the animal to the sounds and smells of her approach, and she'd mostly eaten her fill when she heard the unmistakable loping footsteps of a wolf. The cat launched herself up a tree and hid among the branches. Overlooking the opened carcass, she saw that a seagull was quick to move in and start pulling at the remaining meat. There was still a good deal of food left.

The catamount kept silent, waiting to see if the wolf would find her catch.

the deeper towards the heart of the territory taisun prowls, he is greeted with clusters of ash trees whose lower reaching branches; untrimmed and left to their own wiles to form a natural barrier. tightly woven branches naturally twisted 'round each other. he wedges himself between two spaced trees, knowing that he could likely go around, but unwilling to put the time and effort in pacing the edges of the territory to find his way to its heart. he assumes he'll find shelter within, and by proxy: fresh water and food sources; the ladder of which he can scent even over the salty brine that lingers and the constant swell of damp earth that the most recent rain leaves in it's wake.

the kill is fresh; them metallic scent of blood luring him like a siren's song lures unwitting sailors to their deaths. though, unlike said unwitting sailors, taisun's steps are slow and hesitant. displaying habitual caution at the likelihood of just finding an abandoned kill.

he finds it ...and a seagull tearing greedily at the carrion. taisun stops, lingering close to bramble, seaglass gaze searching suspiciously. left, right. but never up. he assumes the kill is wolven, naturally. he is so close now, a meal lingering four, maybe five steps away and taisun begins to salivate. still, he hesitates, not confident enough to believe that he would not be rushed by a possessive wolf the moment he draws nearer ...though he hasn't scented any wolves in particular.

The wolf that found her kill was alone. His coat was a dark, brownish grey and he had curious white markings, though she had seen odder. The canine looked young, though it was hard for her to gauge through the branches and at the distance. The cat assumed he was male based on the thin scent coming through beyond the bloody smell of meat. Her ear flicked as another gull sounded its vulture call from the skies.

Being mostly full, she wasn't in a huge hurry to even defend her kill, though she felt a bit nervous. As the wolf approach closer, she slung herself more comfortably over the tree, just like a leopard. It's okay, she said calmly. Even she wouldn't have trusted her own behaviour from another lion, but she wasn't exactly like most lions. It's mine, but I'm full.

She gave a great yawn from her branch, showing her white teeth. This was partially instinctual, to show him that she could see him off if she really wanted to, but mostly she was just tired. It wouldn't be long before she would find a good spot to snooze away from the gull cries. I mean, might as well eat before the birds really get to it.

taisun is habitually mistrustful of the graceful and powerful feline from where she looms like a queen upon her throne from above. death from above, his mind cautions him. taisun does not cross paths with felines very often and he remembers the words of cautions from the elders all the same. she speaks to him, in the gibberish dialect of the common tongue speakers and it hits his brain as noises; vowels and consonants without any meaning. he cannot string them together to make sense and for all the good it does, she might as well be speaking to a stone.

as equally unwilling to understand.

wǒ bù míngbái, māo. he breaks his held to silence, his native tongue spilling off his lips in what sounds like poetry to his ears when compared to the harsh sounds of the tongue she uses.

What was... that?

The sounds were a set of staccato oddities with a harsh twang Umi had never heard before. The cat tilted her head slightly to listen, but nothing came of this motion. She raised a brow. She didn't understand a lick, and had never encountered anyone who did not speak the way she did. There was of course the noteable exception of those species she commonly hunted.

Umi blinked. Body language. The young wolf was clearly also confused, which quickly softened her further. Slowly, she crept out of her tree, claws digging into the bark of her chosen perch as she descended. She breathed softly, looking toward the wolf but being careful to avoid his eye contact — she had no desire to harm him.

Any other lion might have simply watched him pass by without consequence. She was too curious to let him go that easily. She thought for a minute, searching for a way to communicate that he was free to share in her hard work. With a steady breath, she lowered herself to the ground and lay down. Her hind legs splayed to one side.

Umi hummed three small, soft notes. Then, she watched, wondering what he might do.
What was this beast who spoke this way?