Stavanger Bay harsher times than these

A second accusation had the desired affect. The wolf seemed to recede somewhat; his bottom plopped onto the sand in sufficent enough deference to cause the woman herself to recede. She looked on him now with curiosity, ears flapping as if to ward off flies as he continued to speak. He no longer sounded too upset, but Mannoah found herself dissatisfied with his manner of speech.

"Basura," she decided with a gentle scoff. Harsh was the word, but her eyes still reflected some measure of pleasure with the wolf. His ugliness did not bother her; for Mannoah herself was an ugly creature, at heart and to her own eyes. Perhaps the wolf would think her ugly as well, but perhaps it would not matter. Demons and instincts were powerful things.

"¿Le agrado?" she simpered, moving nearer once more. This time, she did not stop a polite distance away, but came up upon him to investigate. Her pointy, darting nose sought the skin near his shoulder, his spine. She would not have him if he smelled too sickly - but little else would stop her from trying.