Stavanger Bay Demoiselle

Something was wrong with this one. Swordfish noted the flowers twined with his coat. He watched closely for a giveaway that might reveal the stranger’s next words or physical reaction. When the man spat something foreign, Swordfish’s lean frame grew taught. His sea gaze drew to a pointed stare. The bear-hunter did not shift from his place. 

Haven’t met Blossom. 

The young man’s tone bordered on indifference. Swordfish didn’t want to linger long on this missing entity. When his heavy-lidded stare found the flowercloaked wolf again, it was with a glimmer of pity. 

Ya look like yer in need of some food. 

With a grunt, he rose from his resting place.