Ankyra Sound And I'm not wearing trainers

She wished that swimming was something she was a natural at, but it wasn't. The sea swelled and rolled around her as she paddled, submerging her head more than once and sending her off course with every strike of her limbs through water. It was choppier than usual what with the brewing storm and incoming winds, but she made Grimnismal's shore eventually, and took a long moment to shake herself off and shiver before Mahler's call reached her jet ears.

"Well," she decided after a moment as she took several steps toward him. He wasn't the source of the sharp scent permeating the strand, for which Wylla was thankful; for whatever reason, she was consumed with the desire to bite and bully the wolf who was causing it. She hadn't seen many of Grimnismal's number that day, so it could have been any one of them for all she knew, but she blamed Nyx first and then Caiaphas second, if only because she had reason to feel insecure about both of them.

"It's Wylla, by the way," she corrected haughtily, "not Villa." The entire existence of accents went well over her head; she had no idea she was making fun of something he really couldn't control. "How are you? Settling in? Not creeping into anyone's beds, I hope?"