Dragoncrest Cliffs orchid breathing

The fragments fell away from his jaws. He probed a stinging spot in his gums with his tongue where the wood had jabbed and brought blood to the surface. Payment for his lack of patience. He deserved that.

He glanced up when someone called his attention nearby and was unable to hide the sudden scowl at the sight of Njord's little lady. He knew he was being uncharitable and that it was unfair of him to judge her by his da's foolish behaviour, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't help thinking of how Mireille was cold, alone, and frightened on that island while Njord was (he assumed) too busy sucking face with some little lass to search for her when he was supposed to be the seafarer.

Who be askin'? he wondered, sweeping the shattered bits of stick away from him with a flick of his paw before he settled a level, cool stare on her. Miraculously, he did not feel the slightest bit nervous or shy, perhaps because he was too busy feeling indignant for how she had distracted his da. He was not the dominant sort, choosing to defer without much effort to most members of Sapphique, but for once he unabashedly held another wolf's eyes and refused to let his drop.