Sequoia Coast doberman pharaoh

The seawolf's tongue was base; this one spoke with such eloquence and wording that the Captain's imposing scowl slumped into an unspoken 'huh?' as the wolf prattled one with what he gathered was an order of some sort. "Belay!" Snapped Ferahgo, who tail twitched as he tried to pick sense of what he was hearing.

"Who be ye referrin' to? Her? Her who? What has she done? Speak plain!" The coldness of his exterior, from stormy coat to baleful expressions, was contrasted only by the rising heat of his anger beneath his skin. It was his code to leave no unfinished business; if one of his had brought trouble to his ship and himself, their life was forfeit.

Not once did he think his action against the bony dweller to the north had anything to do with it; he had spilled no blood there, and it had been (to him) mere rough play; nothing serious.