Stavanger Bay everyone, step aside; this is the last warning

It was an odd embrace, but one that the dusky shewolf thought she recognized. Even odder that he should embrace her this way when her Time, though near, was not yet upon her - but she was pliant to whatever plans or wishes her beloved might have, and whatever worries about Skellige's plans she still harbored faded away in his soothing presence. Atoll - Doe, right now - shuffled herself under his larger frame, only to find him slipping away.

The game irritated her for a moment before she saw the clear-eyed affection etched into his handsome features. Oh, she thought to herself, feeling a strange mixture of disappointment and relief, Just a hug, then. That's probably for the best.

But she could not allow her beloved monopoly over such affections! Doe reared back on her hind legs and clamped her thin forelegs around Szymon's neck, locking her clunky paws at his jutting shoulder blades. From there, she did her best to drag his face to her level, exactly where she wanted it, and peppered it with wet, sloppy licks and scrapes of  her preening teeth. She made she to breathe her fish-breath into his nose before releasing him and burrowing her face more firmly into the fur of his chest. The soothing scent of Syzmon filled her nostrils - as well as mint and lemongrass. An odd medely, but one she could appreciate.

"Did you already see the den?" Doe asked, wondering if she'd seen how she'd opened it for him, and whether he'd gone in and messed with her stores before she could warn him about the oleander. Although, he seemed healthy enough and smelled free of any poison.