Stavanger Bay as i climb into the skies

He had grown sensitive to the fact that he did not know what was happening in Raptor’s life. Smokestep had spent nights pacing his den, fretful, knowing that he had damaged a relationship that he felt was necessary to his life and unable to fix it. The corsair had been wrought with his own inability to cope with the actions and reactions that had turned his life unexpectedly. Try as he might, the pirate was not always that quick on his feet, and he had a preference of lazy afternoons to bustling weekdays, so the flood of stressful emotions had done very little good to the hot-headed youth. The numbers of his crew were strong, and he had a good relationship with most of the members within it. Still, there were those that he cared very specifically for.
 
Feeling as though he was at a loss, the marauder made his way out of the caves in the stone and onto the sandy beaches. The sound of water meeting shore offered him a sense of calm, and he breathed deep the saline breeze that drifted across the bay. There was weight to the yearling’s shoulders. He did not know how to relieve himself of it, so he slung it there like a well-worn pack and toted it everywhere he wandered. Frustration overtook him and with a snort, Smokestep set off with lengthy strides. There was little direction to his trot, but he found himself chest deep in the waves; his mismatched gaze rested on the setting sun.