Eating sea biscuits and drinking red rum

[Caspa Al-Fateh]

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She stiffened a little at the disgruntled-sounding remark and turned, faraway eyes slowly focusing back to the present. "No. I did not see you there. I just wanted to hold the horseback seat." Her eyes flashed in their hollows, to think she was justifying herself to a stranger, but she made herself quickly retract the arrogance with a polite smile - it was quite right of her to explain herself to the residents, being so new and untried, she had a lot of work to do to find a place and therefore civility would be definitely advisable. More than that, she outright longed for companionship and knew she must quickly learn to make a favourable impression on any variety of wolves. Or fellow mongrels, she thought, recognising the dog in him. Although he was larger with obvious wolf blood, he shared her domestic-throwback fur and ears. Or, ear. What had he said - Jesus? The name was unfamiliar. She wondered if he thought she was somebody else. Perhaps he was rebuking her by that name. She felt she should explain herself clearly. "I'm Caspa, lately a Seigneur." The saddle on its crate started to tilt precariously and she caught it one-handed by an edge, before pushing it further onto the box hopefully more squarely this time. "What do you do here?" her eyes made a sweeping circle of the room, indicating all the horsy apparel. She assumed he knew about this; there was something so confidently relaxed about him, as if this was his world, but maybe it was that everywhere was his world.

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