Wheeling Gull Isle young blood, gotta pull the trigger

That's fine!

He continues grooming the young boy, gently using his teeth to remove stray bits of seaweed and other flotsam and jetsam from his pelt, murmuring half coherent words as he stole glances at the woman. He paused at her rapid anger, curious as to why she was so hostile. This land was not marked, was it? His nostrils flared as he tasted the air, searching for any other signs of wolf scent other than their own. 

He chuckles at her choice of words, the irony only reserved for him and @Mazatl. Dacă ceva, că voi fi o sângerare vă. He smirks to himself, knowing that Mazatl doesn't know enough of his tongue to understand. The man reluctantly pulls his head away from his deer-like sclav, raising his voice to the woman. We were merely curious about the island, He says, still wondering about her malice. Why, do you own this island?