Sea Lion Shores wolf [m]other

aye, rhaegal agrees in a soft murmur. their meat be good fer storin' fer the winter.

spoken from a seafarer who has weathered at least the first two winters of his life alongside the sea.

'course, s'nae as good as deer..., a tilt of his head is given. salty, tastes of the sea ... but nae terrible.

somewhere in rhaegal's mind, he's aware that he's rambling; struck by a soft fluttering of nerves and lowly stoked flames of desire for her, ever heightened by the delicious perfume she currently wore.