Cerulean Cape whisper wild

He had heard many voices on the wind lately. Prompted by an irrational desire to distance himself from the coast wolves - perhaps because winter was nearing its end - Njal made his way west. He followed the rocky shoreline until it petered out in to sand. It was easier to traverse the stone and dirt than to hike upon the sand, but when that gave way, he made due. He stopped frequently. It took hours to reach the cape, in part because of his aching leg, but also because he stopped to sniff at errant smells or to relieve himself. Evening settled across the salty strand as he reached what felt like the edge of the world. To his right there was ocean, to his left the distant hills reaching towards mountains and the plains; Njal was faced with the river's mouth before him, and not a soul for company.