Wheeling Gull Isle bridge to somewhere

Luke blinked at her offense, taking a step back instinctively in case her chastising words were to be followed up with a scolding bite. He could not have guessed she would be so particular about what word he chose to refer to the cape she carried, nor could he fathom that it meant more to her than it did to him. Luke merely thought he was looking at someone with his same affinity for hides, an affinity he had developed when he had rested on one and then decided to drag it back to his den. He had since figured a way to dry and keep hides of many animals, making his den cozily plush. But alas, he left his den and carpeting behind.

"Well, I'm sorry," he said softly, casting her an apologetic look with his head lowering a notch and his tail now only gently wagging. "It's very pretty," he went on. "Can I touch it?" Luke perked up at his next question, looking hopeful at the female. Her "skin" looked soft and he was just itching to feel it, having never come across one before.