Stavanger Bay you have what you have, and what you have is for you

several things at once registered to sandpiper: the alien lilt of the woman's voice, and the equally alienable travel of her mint eyes. sandpiper bristled instinctively, having no appreciation for being visibly sized up like some hunk of rotted carrion. she tried to stand square, to appear bigger -- anything to fend off the unwelcome prying of this utterly bizarre female.

she cocked her tail to the side and surly as all hell, replied: "no?" for once, she was not being deliberately obtuse -- while she understood the concept of wenches, her brother had never found interest in them, and as such, it was the furthest thing from her mind as she confusedly blinked in the presence of this eccentric wolf.