Dragoncrest Cliffs i like the sprinter better.

look at dat, sobeille thought dryly as she canvassed the shoreline with an unfortunate fish in her jaws: it’s the man dat talks too much.

cayetano stumbled back, the rotted end of a fin in his mouth. sobeille wasn’t about to hail him with pleasantries, but since she happened to be in the area she stopped and placed the fat meal in the sand. nice catch, but mine be better. sobeille had become something of a hunter — though so far, her success was limited to small game.

she placed a paw upon the dazzling scales, meeting his gaze directly. you want dis?