Stavanger Bay I tried to warn you, but you just repelled

so this is the source of the scent of the mermaid's coat, then, of which she's caught a faint scent of from the breeze. she hates it. it is wide, blue, unending and yet a finite end in itself. she approaches the sea on stilted limbs, auds pressed forward. its scent is pungent, overbearing, and as she realizes when she reaches the shallows a short distance away from the woman, disgusting. 

she pulls her muzzle from the waters, allowing the bitter water to fall from her muzzle as her features distort into a rare display of discontent. her gaze skips over the waves, laced with seafoam, and abruptly come to meet eyes of molten orange. she blinks, caught off guard and out of her element, holding her gaze in disbelief, hackles prickling in the face of this sea-wolf.