Stavanger Bay blackwood farm

There was a moment where irritation seemed to flicker inside of him. The emotion was not directed at Rowan, but surprisingly had found itself festering upon Deirdre. The pale witch had been kind to the wolves of the bay and had come when Skellige had called to her, but he found himself discrediting many of the things she had told him. The girl had spoken of her intention to speak to her leadership about his claim over the territory next to their own – she had not done this. She had told him that the forest pack was a peaceful place filled with wolves who sought to heal and to help those around them – somehow they had condemned the female carrying their former alpha’s pups. There came a moment inside of him where he wondered if she had spoken a true word at all or if she was merely living on dreams. The frustration was enough for him to cast Deirdre from his mind; if she should wish to explain, she would know where to find him.
 
Rowan explained that she had family elsewhere – in a creek of some sort that he had not heard of – and that she had wished for her children to be raised around familiar faces. A thoughtful frown creased his inky face and he shrugged a shoulder in a lackadaisical manner. “They would be close to Deirdre and the others if they resided here… but they are your children and the decision is your own,” he grumbled with furrowed brows. If the pale creature had wished for her pups to be nearer to the man who had conceived them, departing for the creek seemed a strange option. Skellige found that the wolves of Donnelaith were an odd bunch.
 
When the woman went on to inquire about his customs, the titan glanced toward Doe with a frown and wondered if it was wise to share the ways of their people with passersby. The concern was cast aside in favor of his own pride, and Skellige lifted his skull upward, boring into her features with dark mahogany eyes. “You are with children. My people practice the ritual called the drop. In order to test the strength of a child and to know if the sea will accept and bless them, they are dropped into the ocean when they are able to walk firmly. If they make it to shore, they are granted their role within the pack. If they do not…” he paused for a moment, flicking a single ear sideways to catch the crashing of the waves, “they are worthy sacrifices.” Surely a healer of Donnelaith would find the custom to be appalling, but she had asked and he was relatively transparent for a beast with very little social construct.