Sea Lion Shores cake by the ocean

The dramatic nature that he had adopted certainly did not come from the teachings of his father. Skellige had been quite disappointed in the boy when he had discovered Smokestep's penchant for all things rogue and pirate-like. He had been fortunate enough to come upon a wandering band of corsairs when he had been younger, and they had shaped his life in ways that he never would have imagined. The dramatics had been a byproduct of such an experience. The young pirate was grateful that they had offered him a different way of life; he did not wish to turn into the iron claw that was his father's reign.

The strange young boy introduced himself as Screech. It seemed a fitting calling for such an imaginative lad, so Kingfisher bobbed his skull in response to the moniker. He then explained where he was stationed, and the pallid seafarer pointed his muzzle in the direction of the wood in reference. Brows furrowed slightly, he cast his gaze back to the wolf called Screech and opted for a thoughtful expression. “Aye, then. Hope it's a fittin' crew ye've got yerself wit,” he remarked.

It didn't take long before the boy asked for some information. Smokestep eyed him carefully as the question was presented; his expression remained the same. Screech was looking for a big family, then. While the pirate couldn't have cared less about whether or not the sad one-eyed thing found his kin, he was interested in the prospect of a group of wolves wandering about the coast. “Nay, lad. I've not seen the likes of 'em, but if ye give me a name I could keep two o' me eyes out fer 'em,” he said with a nasty jab at the other's disability. Still, if Screech was making jokes, Smokestep only assumed that he would be welcome to do the same.