Wheeling Gull Isle young blood, gotta pull the trigger

The other boy does not speak. He stands idly by as the other, the black and white beast, grooms him. Even that is an affront to Akantha, who lives with the mark of the sea on her coat as a badge of honor, but she does not expect the strangers to understand. Her own fur is salt-flecked, and kissed with grains of sand and seaweed. She never made to remove them, but did not pretend to enjoy garlands of seaweed wrapped around her ankles and neck as Aktaie the first once did. A stiff-legged stance is all that keeps her from crossing the gap and driving her teeth into flesh. 

Her ears quiver at the unfamiliar language and she bares her teeth at the offense. Her eyes narrow and she stares, trying to convey the sheer amount of disquiet she feels at their presence. "Yes." She snips, "Ask your questions, and get out." Akantha growls again, and waves her tail slowly. You are testing my patience...