Stavanger Bay blood and wine

@Deirdre

Water rushed against the sands with a swift push and tug, lapping at the shoreline quietly. The bay was secluded enough that it had allowed for Skellige to hunker down in peace. The injury to his shoulder and neck was causing him discomfort. Traveling alone was not wise, and his knowledge of herbs was limited. His attempt to bring down a young elk calf had ended in a protective mother driving her hoof into the side of his collar. He’d darted away, but not without sustaining injury. In times of famine, the laceration would be enough to kill him. Once he had been free of the mother elk, he had sought the salt of the ocean water in hopes that it would clean his wound as it had countless times before. To some extent, he had been right, but he needed more.
 
Intense auburn eyes were kept sharply watching the outskirts of the area. Skellige would not have been surprised if Ksenia had sent one of the others to keep an eye on him. His paranoia had driven him to a state of heightened fury, and the pain in his nape was enough to make him deranged. Holed up in the bay, his odds were not good. But he had kept himself afloat by catching fish and small rodents. If he could maintain that, there was a fraction of a chance that he could scrape by.