Stavanger Bay Lazy day

If Foxglove had given a damn about looks, then she would have been amused by the other's assumption of her being pretty. The coloring was unusual - yes, but besides that extraordinary feature there was nothing much to like about the scrawny thing. Had she had some sort of inner glow that would radiate through, things might have been different. But at this point Foxglove was just wretched on the outside than she was on the inside. 

Awinita. Out of a pool of unneccessary words Foxglove had fished out the important one - she would recall her packmates name, even if she would never utter it out loud. The rest of the sentence was forgotten in an instant and common courtesy was not something the wolf-dog was accustomed to. Therefore she made her intentions clear in other ways, by looking expectantly at the other's face, walking around and sniffing the ground and then casting a glance over at the ocean first an then back at the forest. She was in search for food and was waiting to see, if her packmate had any clues to solve the hunger problem.