Stavanger Bay the lighthouse

The woman spoke again in her strange tongue and the druid of the sea lifted his crown up to its full height and regarded her with stiff ears and a daring look in his vision. She really did not speak the common tongue, it seemed. The string of words seemed to have ended as a query, but the sly yearling did not believe that he would be able to adequately answer it without having a basic grasp of what she was trying to say to him. Knaven furrowed his brow and made an effort to give himself an appearance that was nonthreatening. He wasn’t seeking to frighten her away just yet, though if he could not find a way to communicate with the girl, he imagined he would grow bored swiftly.
 
“I’m Knaven,” he tried to offer, lips curling into a con man’s smirk that left the tips of his canines peeking from beneath. He imagined introductions were the best place to start. Then, knowing that it probably didn’t seem like something she would register as being a moniker, he lowered his muzzle in a manner of gesturing to himself and spoke again, “Knaven.” The druid did not believe that asking her a follow-up question would be beneficial, so instead he just canted his head to the side as a way to ask, what about you?