Otatso Wetlands tatarmoon

The stranger was demure and submissive in turns. Gavrel noticed the gentle wave of his tail, his sloped shoulders, which immediately reminded him of Jannik. His heart clenched of its own accord.

A pack or two, he said, not wanting to give away too much information about the Rise, but not wanting to come off as belligerent either.

His gaze softened by degrees. And the ocean, if you've ever seen it.

He himself could spy it on patrols that went north of the Rise, a disk of deep blue in the distance. He wondered if wolves lived on the shore, at the veritable edge of the world.

Are you a traveler, or what? And after a measured pause, fidgeting with the pale covert feathers of the goose, I'm Gavrel.