No, the man was not a speaker of her tongue. A pity.

She observed, caution lessening, as he put his paw to his chest and laid out his name for her - once, twice. Chak-liux...? She did what she could to match the sound in slow, stumbling mutter.Cha...Cha-ke-li-uh-kese? That last sound was rough to her tongue, and she did not know if she was capable of ending that name on such a strange, rigid, hiss-like noise. Another thing of this land she knew not of.

Before Lujing could give her his name in return, the seawolf asked of her something about food, then turned away before waiting for an answer or even elaborating at all. Upon the wet sand, the man searched for little moving bits hidden in the safety of the ground. She followed him briskly, muting her steps so as to maintain the silence he might need for whatever he searching for.

Ah. Clams, lobster, mussels, perhaps. He, too, knew of the luxuries the sea offered - but he, apparently, knew much more of the shore here than she did. Home had carried similar treasures, but never would the ocean’s reaches be identical.

When he looked up at her once more with his bright flowery eyes, Lujing pointed one paw at the assortment of seaside harvest. These sand-things… have a name in common or no? She leaned down, still at a mild distance, and tried to catch a wisp of the smell but could make little out of it. Nothing deviated too much from what she was used to at home. They are safe to eat, ah? They look good.

Lujing lifted herself again in half-considerate surveillance of the beach, then returned her gaze back to the man. It was only fair that she give her name to him, as he did to her. Mimicking the man’s earlier introduction, she placed a paw on her chest and tried to carefully enunciate, Lu…jing. The absence of confidence in her pronunciation was strange even to her, almost as if she had forgotten her own name, so she repeated it again with greater vigor. Lujing.