Blackbeak Bluff pwazon

the sight of exposed vulnerability quelled the wolftooth primacy of her brain; mireille suffered his presence only a moment longer to flick her eyes over his doglike form. she drew away with an epithet on her mouth and a softening, perhaps, to the hard glint of one emerald eye. 
a bullish snort issued from the saltwolf's nostrils. "you might have better fare in sweetharbor, t'ere. an easier time wid de locals as well."
not kindness, but not meanness; mireille spent herself and set her green eyes on the sea. if he wanted to retreat, now was the moment to do it, before she whirled on him again to glut the hard knife of her growing and realized hatred.