Stavanger Bay Rest My Dear

Engel seemed to grow steadily more serious before he cast a desolate expression toward the pale Captain and uttered a few small words that didn’t sit so well with the pirate. Smokestep peered at his scout with a cocked brow and an expression that openly showed he did not understand what was happening, or what Engel was truly saying. Gaping his mouth some, the marauder shook his head and then pointedly peered at the reddish-hued male who had delivered the bad news of Awinita’s death.
 
“O’ course she did… we’re a crew, mate. All o’ us care ‘bout each other,” he affirmed with a swift nod of his head. It was terrible to know that the pallid woman had gone, but Smokestep hardly thought it was the time to discuss her undying devotion to the pack and its members.