Ankyra Sound Where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire?

Stag was not a spiritual wolf, but even he could feel there was something lingering about -- it settled across Rosalyn's shoulders and drifted to he and Wylla -- something that had dispelled discomfiture down to his bones and had his teeth on edge.

He didn't understand what to make of Rosalyn's answer, nor Wylla's reply. He knew only this wolf was likely a marked enemy -- she shared a loss of eye and it was there her similarities with Wylla and he ended. Stranger may as well mean enemy to the young man and his counterpart.

He thought he scented something else above the brine. Blood, perhaps. A score along the sand that was curiously dark earned his attention for several seconds before Stag turned his gaze away. He was not sorry at all that they would not enter that dark hole Rosalyn stood besides. It sent a shiver down his spine and he was loathe to turn his back to it.

One last lingering gaze to Rosalyn, perhaps to assess if she was a threat after all -- before Stag turned and wordlessly followed Wylla towards the wrack line.