Cerulean Cape champions of the sun

The saltstrung oncomer was receptive to Indie’s greeting and even added a respectable dip of the head too boot. Indie was by no means a wolf of high decorum [in fact, she came from a family that was anything but] and, as far as the Nereides went, the vaudevillian was still low man on the totem pole — so the simple action of the young woman’s slight dip of the head was enough to stoke Indie’s fire and sense of self-importance. “My, my, my” she tittered, stepping closed to the girl who's pelt was so similar to her own; albeit, with a small smudge of white upon her chest.  “Aren’t you a pretty one?” and she was — all legs and held herself confidently, as if she was queen of the coastline. Indie liked that.

“What’s your name?”