Wheeling Gull Isle treibloka

From red girl on the beach. He chuffed through a flat, humorless smile. She was furious. I yielded, else she would have cut me.

He hadn't fought, really fought anyone in so long. He was afraid of what he might be brought to do. He wanted to think that he would have just taken her blows. That all the abstinence and self-discipline amounted to a real change within himself.

Grains of sand between his toes were being whisked away by the current. His fur was slicked close against skin, revealing a silhouette rail-thin and bounded with lean muscle. More of a vector than what could be called a flesh-and-blood body.

Ah! he exclaimed at the sudden coldness. Goosepimples raced up his arms, down his neck.

You... He whipped his face to her, his features arranged in an exaggerated how could you hang-dog expression— before it broke apart into laughter as he lunged towards her, chest-deep in water, paws outstretched to push her off her feet.