Sea Lion Shores A crack in the silver moon

When her administrations of proddings had finally woke the light gray brute, Tethys leapt back as he jumped up also, giving her a healthy snarl. Instead of responding, she only looked amused and pleased that he wasn't fully dead. And the male seemed to regain a smooth and stoic composure as soon as he had fully come to his senses.

I'm sure if I was in a pack, we'd be swarming all over you right now, Tethys grinned. Her bright pools, the color of a cool river, gave the stray male a once-over. Muscular, large, a light silvery-white coat that was drying fast, but plastered with sand and blood, and a scar that crossed the bridge of his muzzle. Undoubtedly handsome, and she liked what she saw underneath his messy cloak. Unlike most coastal wolves, who were trim and built like otters, this wolf carried the aura of a soldier.

She slid forward, paws easily molding into the sand. He was covered in sea debris and scrapes that reddened his coat. Calmly, the dark female picked a wad of seaweed stuck to the side of his neck and spit it out. You don't seem the type to be swimming around.