Stavanger Bay on my face

The boy had come from around here. Well, somewhere around here. The smell of salt water and sand was prominent on his pelt and easy to track back to, up to a certain point. There were no packs along the beach, none filled with sirens and harpies just gawking for a man to strut by, and not some young whelp who didn't even know how to use his dick.

What would he even do with a bunch of ladies anyway. Was he that starved for a woman's affection that he would test his luck in a sea of them? Not really. Muscles flexed and rolled under the thick pale coat of his as he snaked his way across the terrain, it was when he reached a peak did something pique his interest. A woman. 

Was she one of the packmates of the little spitfire he met? The location made sense. She wandered and he followed, shadowing her movements akin to that of a house cat, ears perked with a flattened gait, stalking with a playful air about it. Where was she going? Maybe she'd lead him to the pack of clucking hens. Would she greet him with the same hostility as the boy did? Was she just as stupid?