Cerulean Cape to haunt, to startle

After a while the pale wolf returned to, where Foxglove was sitting and waiting. He was holding something in his jaws and she craned her neck as far as she could to catch a whiff of, what it was. Smelled of blood, salt, sea-weeds and rotting mush that was washed ashore often (the young wolf had no better explanation for it), and which was edible and endurable at times. 

He spat the object out and it landed by her feet. She sprang to her feet, took a step back and warily - eyes watching the male, leaned down to have a careful sniff. Then she carefully put one paw on the fish and with her gaze still fixed on the guy. The question was - whether he minded her claiming his kill or did he have something else in mind.