Ankyra Sound something rotten in the state of denmark

the salt wretch had been busy in one sect of the grotto restoring the damage of the long forgotten twister when she thought she heard the dim echo of laughter. she paused, her hackles rising -- was she imagining things again? had her iniquity finally caught up with her?

carefully the sea-wolf placed the wilted fern in her mouth on the ground, securing it with the heavy edge of a sea shard she had found weeks earlier. she turned back towards the entrance, her fur continuing to bristle outright as the source of the laughter became louder. for a moment she paused below the den's entrance, allowing her eyes to adjust to the harsh glare of the outer world -- and when her vision was restored the sylph burst from the ground with a ferocious coyote-shriek, rounding upon the mottled guffawer with haste.

"you're on claimed land." the coywolf growled, her lower lips curled as she sized up the agouti male. he was lean like her, but bigger -- and something about his physique made her wonder if he was no stranger to scrapping. while the sound was no longer claimed by a pack, she patrolled it daily -- and despite the fact her harem had sunken into the sand she still felt a tie to the sound. an ownership. a bond in which it was likely only death would release. "state your business."