Barrow Fields And sat with me in Neptune's yellow sands

Pulling back slightly at the exclamation, Flaris gathered too late that he had frightened the petite canine. His tail wagged in tight, pitiful swings, an apology written on his face. She didn't flee, however, which he found as fascinating as he did her entire species. Usually coyotes avoided wolves, but she was of a brave stock, and having met a few coywolves in his life, wondered if her daring came from an equally broad curiosity or attraction for his own kind. He had always thought the foraging scavengers to be a kind of small and exotic wolf, so he was in no way put off by her slim, tapered features and generally jejune appearance. "I cannot apologize deeply enough. It was not my intention to come upon you so brazenly," he intoned with cordial emotion, his deep voice seeming to swell directly from his heart. "My name is Flaris."