Dragoncrest Cliffs fwi

He'd had his paw brought up to his muzzle, licking free the brine when she leaned in to help. He responded with an attempt at a smile, then finished and set it back down in the sand, bitter salt lingering on his tastebuds, causing his nose to scrunch up momentarily. 

He still didn't understand where the flavor came from.

But her words were comforting. It was rare the wolf feared anything, rare that unearned confidence alone wouldn’t carry him safely through. He’d never met a problem he couldn’t fight, eat, or ignore. And the ocean, she demanded to be perceived. 

”I look forward to it, Mireille,’ he said, then gently pressed his salt-stained muzzle against her shoulder briefly. The thought of learning to swim—actually swim, and a whole new hunting ground, it excited him.

Good to archive! Totally forgot to reply..