Blackbeak Bluff pwazon

Exit Daniil!

No bite came. He watched her face through the thin spray of fur at his chest, his chin pressed against his collar.

Sweetharbor, he repeated, his accent making the word viscous and dense, where hers had made it buoyant.

She did not look at him anymore. He was silently relieved to be rid of that pinpoint fury. It was what an ant felt under the concentrated sunlight of a magnifying glass. A prickling sensation that crossed over to a bright pain before you knew it, as inexplicable as flames that burned atop the ocean, along thin films of gasoline.

He took her dismissal literally, pulled himself to his feet, and began to trot in the direction traced by her gaze.