Stavanger Bay blackwood farm

The pale Mayfair seemed to accept the idea of their custom with a confidence that her children would survive the plunge into the depths. She spoke so surely that even the titan believed the pups would survive the drop and would find their way safely to shore. At once, Doe chimed in with her respectful view on the ritual, and Skellige nodded his head in agreement to the Atoll’s words. She had come to know the ways of the Warsaw wolves with a keen eye and an open mind; the witch doctor was a blessing on their lands.
 
Rowan then made a promise of sorts to return the kindness that had been shown to her. The leviathan tilted his head to the side and frowned thoughtfully to the woman. It was not a matter of showing kindness – at least, not to him. The words that he had shared with the Mayfair wolf were simple enough, and while Doe would have thought that he had shown the pregnant woman a gentler hand than others who had trailed so close to their borders, Skellige had merely been providing information. Though he was a superstitious wolf and a man who was ruled very heavily by his beliefs, the titan had a strong sense of rationality. The best decision was to give the information on the depths to this female and to anticipate that – if the sea should call to her – she would be forced to answer.
 
Drawing his muzzle upward slightly, Skellige peered at her. “You would do well to answer the call of the sea, Rowan Mayfair. She is beautiful but unforgiving,” he offered to her with a small nod. It was a simple truth; the waves echoed his statement by crashing against the sands with a rumble. What more was there to say to the forest witch? If she had made up her mind, there was no amount of convincing that could take place. But the hours were growing late and it would be time for the brute to depart soon enough.