Sea Lion Shores Not all those who wander are lost

The temptation of the ocean and the shore was something that the young pirate could always relate to. No matter where he was, he felt the pull of the waves against the beating of his own heart. Smokestep was born and bred of the salty waters; he was made of the darkness that rolled beneath the swell. The timidity of the female was not missed, but the pale young Captain took a step back to allow her room to breathe. “She is a fine sight to behold,” he agreed with her solemnly; there was a tone of reverence in his voice when he spoke of the ocean.
 
The woman inquired if he was from around those parts, and the young pirate cast her a crooked grin and nodded his head twice. “Aye, lass – was born just in that thar bay, but got moved away, an’ I’ve come back to make it me home again,” he answered her in as few words as he could manage. Smokestep was certain that she wouldn’t have wanted his entire life story, so he hoped to keep things simple. Formalities had always been a challenging aspect of meeting people, he’d realized.
 
“An’ yerself?”