Stavanger Bay the live oak tree and the big bay moon

He let out a breath when the wolf reported no such sightings. What I waste of time, Yeet thought, his eyes narrowing to little more than slits when the wolf pressed for more details and then mentioned his own search.

“Like I could give a fuck,” he retorted when, all of a sudden, he realized he was really being an asshole. “Sorry, man, I’m just on edge ‘cause he’s my bro,” he offered a little begrudgingly. “And, uh, sorry about your faja.”

He paused, wondering if he was supposed to ask what the dude looked like. But if he were to keep an eye out, how the hell would he report back to this Dutch guy? “Yeet,” he rejoined, scratching absently at one foreleg with the other. “What’s your old man look like?”