Sequoia Coast a lady does not start fights

Ferahgo lay on a rock. Flat on his stomach, brown tail snaking about a flank and lean forelegs side by each ahead of him, he was a sphinx. But rather than an image of ancient elegance, he was a portrait of a weather worn predator. His pale gold eyes were raking the shores for something of interest as he rested, waiting for the tide to creep down. His claws had scraped faint lines in the stone in his boredom.

Fortunately, a white figure appeared down the shore, and at first he thought it may be his crewwolf, but as she she drew nearer he could see - and smell - that it was not. His eyes were drawn to the wound of her shoulder, but invetiably they wandered across her... virginal... features.

"Ahoy, miss!" Called the sea wolf as he hopped down from his perch and made his way toward her. "That's a fine wound ye got there! Do ye be needin' help?"