Ankyra Sound No, I haven't had no dope, lift up the velvet rope

If Wylla had known that the source of the nightly howls—not loud enough to wake her, but Wylla was oft about at that hour and was made inexplicably irate by simple and innocent things—was this very wolf, then her reception of the unfamiliar figure would have been more along the lines of telling her to shut up. As it was, she spotted the white blaze on the other girl's chest first, making its way toward her on the pebbled beach while she grappled with the offensive tentacle. She didn't recognize Chusi, just as Chusi didn't recognize her.

Good thing. If Lycaon was jealous and possessive of Ingram's attention, then Wylla, starved for familial contact, was downright proprietorial.

Instead she rose to her feet with the tentacle dangling from her lips and slowly unfurled her tongue as Chusi drew closer. The black wolf cut an odd figure, with a long and narrow face, a broad chest, legs laced with muscle where her own were stilts, and a curiously droopy pelt, but Wylla excused it all as a trick of the light. In lieu of a greeting, she displayed the sucker that was firmly attached to her tongue and rolled her pale yellow-orange eyes balefully up to the other wolf as if to say, whatever did I do to deserve this ultimate punishment?