Neverwinter Forest said he was a sailing man

The bristle along her spine answered his silent question. She had some sense of self-preservation, then — though, had he been in her position, he certainly would have run. Girls, however, were different. Catamaran wondered if this was the source of her boldness.

His ears flicked in acknowledgement, but he bore her needling without much change in expression. He took her criticism in stride, in fact, but the fact remained: "This's my regular voice."

The bounty hunter had not truly wanted her to be frightened. Only to see whether or not she would recognize him as a threat. He felt sure that she did, even if she put on a good show of fearlessness. Social experiment completed, Catamaran lowered his chest to the forest floor, stretching his long forelegs in front of him to rest on his elbows. It was a submissive gesture; almost an apology, though his expression was unmoved. His hind legs remained bunched up, ready to spring him back into action should the need arise. She was smaller than him by a significant margin, but still plenty capable of sticking her teeth in his face if she was feeling bold.

"I beg your pardon," he decided, though his tone was not terribly conciliatory. Nor did he correct the oversight she'd pointed out, touching instead on a different topic she'd brought up. "Has your momma brought you to another pack's borders before?" he asked her, his tone lacking any accusation that might've been implied. It lacked most any tone, but his curiosity was apparent.