Stavanger Bay the live oak tree and the big bay moon

The wolf whirled to face him (because he did, indeed, have a face). Golden eyes peered at him with frank curiosity as a question sprang from the canine’s tongue. Typically, wolves chased him away, seeing him as a nuisance at best and prey at worst.

But this one stood his ground, even spoke to him cordially. Yeet dug his dark paws in the gritty sand and stared openly. His mouth opened and he waited for the other shoe to drop.

When it didn’t, Yeet demanded querulously, “Why are you being nice to me? Who,” he barked, voice growing louder with each word, a paw lifting from the cold beach to form a fist he shook, “GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO SHIFT THE PARADIGM?”