Stavanger Bay let the fire burn inside you

The personal details of this platinum wolf's life came in through one ear and out the other. Maude could care less about who this wolf was, who his family was, who this dead wolf was. It all meant nothing to her. Only Ferahgo was of any worth to the mad pirate. Maude did, however, take note of the scoff from his lips. A smile crossed her lips as she choked back a cackle at his ignorance. Didn't these landlubbers know what an high-per-bowl-ee was? She didn't mean he actually drank the water, but hey, if he wanted to think she was stupid, it was his funeral after she gutted him loss.

Maude felt no prickling on her spine as the wolf's voice dropped to an eerie murmur. She laughed at his attempt of scaring her with talk of ghosts and spirits of some "yarl" whatever that was. C'mon, do I look that young, matey? Keep yer scary stories for t'whelps, savvy? She walked, crossing the wolf's path, heading towards a comfortable dip in the ground and plopping herself languorously into it. Ain't no ghostie gonna bother Mad Maudie, no sirree. I'll's be too deep in me slumber, dreaming of the Cap'n, fer any core-pe-ul spirit t'wake me. She drawled, eager to go to bed just thinking of dreams of Captain Blackbeard.