Stavanger Bay caterpillars

Charon wondered if he should try to touch the caterpillar. He wasn't sure if it was friendly, because he hadn't ever seen anything like it, nor was he sure if it was a sentient sort of thing at all. It sure didn't talk to him like Ragnar and Thistle did, and like Verrine and Julooke had... Completely enveloped in his thoughts, Charon didn't even notice when someone else approached the clearing the den was in; not until the wolf spoke to him.

Startled, Charon literally jumped back a little. Then he stared at the black wolf that had joined him, head upright and ears erect in the wolf's direction, realising that the wolf had said that the caterpillar was pretty.

Hesitant, Charon took a tiny step closer again. He looked at the toxic-coloured caterpillar, then at the black wolf. She was coloured like Liyaní, all the way down to the white toes, except that her eyes were a different shade. "Pretty," Charon mimicked without looking at the object of prettiness — the caterpillar was momentarily forgotten — and he looked at the black wolf, waiting for some form of approvel of disapproval. "'m Charon," he said, having been taught it was polite to offer his name. Charon craned his neck and tilted his head inquisitively, waiting for the black wolf to share her name, too.