Stavanger Bay as i climb into the skies

When she spoke, he felt the force of her words against him and he thought for a moment he had found a match worth ending all his searches. The yearling peered at her with a curiosity that burned in the deepest pits of his stomach before making its way out in the form of a greeting. “Smokestep,” he offered in a voice that slid past his lips like salt against the stone.  Her own calling was locked away tightly within his mind; he toyed with the sounds that she had let linger against the hairs of his ears before he rattled himself so that he was present in their conversation. It was so peculiar that he should find such a stunning woman at the edges of his land; he was still convinced that she was a spy sent by his father. Skellige knew where his weaknesses were, and the young Cairn would not have put it past the inky Leviathan to do such a thing.
 
The way she looked at him with little regard for the title he held was both alluring and disrespectful. The pale marauder peeled a dark lip over his fangs and issued a low, sniping growl. “Where’d ye come from, lass?” he asked her gruffly, more as a command than a true question. Not once did his gaze leave her features. She could meet the different glint in each of his eyes and he would snap down at her for such insolence, but he would never stray from her features.