Larksong Grotto dreams walking in broad daylight

no packscent on this one, just the reek off the coast and the heavy sticking fragrance of the taiga. colt moved closer because he good, but offered no suggestion he would take anything off her plate, or brave her flashing teeth. 
"rough little fox," he swore gently, swinging his hips to the ground and glaring her direction. he scratched his ear idly. "i mean it. i can hunt summat that don't smell like shitgut an' backfat."
he chewed on his new clump of birchbark, spitting an amber arc into the dirt.