Totoka River we're out of soy milk

poised, he waited, but she did not accept. an eartip flicked in acknowledgement of this fact -- he would not press her again -- but a push of his paw confirmed that the scaled thing remained in her possession. to feed a lone wolf was an act of kindness, but perhaps beneath the warm the ulterior purpose was to welcome her into his ranks. no matter.

he shook his head at her foreign words, for he could not understand them. but he spoke nevertheless one of his own: "donnelaith." he motioned toward the coast as he revealed its name.