Stavanger Bay everyone, step aside; this is the last warning

Weariness burrowed deep into the marrow of Szymon’s bones, but he continued doggedly onward, dragging the remains of the fawn and its spotted hide back to the bay with a growing sense of urgency. He was weary. If another wolf dared to challenge the Cairn for his prize, it would awaken the killing urge in the obsidian-ribbed monster. He would not fail — he had too much at stake — but engaging in battle when he was already so tired was, quite simply, folly. Panting raggedly in the summer heat, he heaved a heavy sigh of relief as he crossed through the territory borders, pausing to refresh them by snaking his body along a gnarled tree to leave tufts of his fur dappled with the blood of his kill. He dragged the carcass to a shady corner of the pampas grove, taking great pains to sequester the coveted organ meat and the thick, fatty muscle of the fawn’s thigh — and then he ventured to one of the pack’s many caches to bury the rest, pulling the salt-crusted kelp carefully back over the top.

The caches were well stocked with meat and fish, due in part to Szymon’s efforts. Grayday had taken some of the fawn’s meat for the Silvertip wolves, and some had been gifted to Donnelaith and to Deirdre, but the Blackrock wolf had saved the choicest bits of meat for his slate and smoke witch doctor. Satisfied with his efforts, he took up the spotted hide in his jaws with as much gentleness as he could muster and brought it to the seaside — there, he rubbed away the last vestiges of fat, sinew, and connective tissue with sand and porous stone. Careful to keep a tight grip on the skin lest the Sea tear it from his grasp, he cleaned away the blood in one of the intertidal pools. Then he rolled the skin in sprigs of mint and lemongrass, butting it with his scarred muzzle and dropping to the ground to crush the leaves’ perfume into the skin. It was a whimsical gift, and Szymon was not normally given to whimsy, but his desire to impress his Chosen One drove his actions. After all, it wasn’t like he could actually give her cubs, unless he stole someone else’s.

Getting up and shaking the foliage from his fur, he pointed his head and howled for @Doe.