Sequoia Coast woke him up with a barrel to his head (Nereides)

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The slender wraith strode with such purpose she sent sand skittering in the blustery wind. Her head was held at an incredible height and her posture seemed almost ludicrous in the way it affected her stilted, stiff gait. She would have continued her fuming were it not for a voice that called behind her -- she spun like a banshee frightened and her feral eyes fell on the warm hazel of the Consort's own.

Surprise had taken her and her hackles were upright in a series of aggressive rifts -- the coywolf stood splay legged and regarded the male carefully before speaking. She did not recognize him but he bore the scent of wolves she knew: inquisitively her little coal-black nose twitched, glistening in the half-light with little puffs. "Who are you?" She inquired suspiciously, maintaining her distance.