Stavanger Bay Rest My Dear

It was not often that the young Captain heard his name in repetition, or with such urgency. When the sound of Engel’s voice made its way to him, he whirled in his place and made his way for the confident scout. The commotion of the incidents of that day had not yet reached him; he did not know that the ocean had claimed one of his very own. Emerging from his den and casting his gaze toward the frantic Engel, Smokestep trotted in the direction of the other male with confusion etched across his features. Both eyes searched the other’s face for signs of what might have happened, but all he could sense was fear and sadness. His heart began to race and he picked up his pace until he was no more than ten yards away. “Wot the fuck is goin’ on?” he barked sharply and waited for the other to speak.