Cerulean Cape farewell and adieu to you spanish ladies

A silvery form appeared before her, tail swishing in the ocean breeze. And holding in her jaws. . .oh, my. The succulent scent swept up and into her nostrils, filling her mouth suddenly with saliva. The woman dropped it before her, and said something--Snowe couldn't make it out, for hunger had taken over her senses, but she surmised that the stranger was offering it to her.

With a shuddering, "T-thanks," Snowe bent her head and began to devour the meat, tangy with salt and fat. The wolf known as Miyako would have been too proud, too stubborn, to accept this offering. But Snowe did not know Miyako from anyone, and she was starving.

Barely chewing, she gobbled up the food and licked the remnants from her lips and jaws, panting slightly from her efforts. She looked up at this newest savior, eyes full of gratitude. She must be a kind woman, to help a stranger like this. It was cold, and Snowe didn't know how much prey was available in this place.

"Thanks," Snowe repeated, a little steadier now that she had eaten. She lifted herself to a sitting position and regarded the silver female, head cocked curiously. "Who. . .are you?"