Heron Lake Plateau how doth the little wild boar

When Caiaphas did not show -- a sure sign that she was beginning to skin him of his ingrained dependencies -- Svalinn resolved to pouting. He plopped down with a donkey's grace and sat glaring at Blondine; his tail skittering back and forth along the ground in an uncertain wag that did a disservice to the ire and helplessness he felt in that moment.

Sitting proper now, with a groan and a sniff, he tipped his head sideways and twitched his ears towards her in a signal that he was finally prepared to listen to what she was saying.

At the end of the day: Svalinn learned a lesson about manners, and it was that he could do without them.