Stavanger Bay we are all just stars that have people names

The woman seemed to marvel at him once she had caught sight of his large form in the water. His legs pushed him towards her until he could feel the sand dig between his claws and he was able to gain his footing once more. It was natural for the Warsaw wolf to move as he did underneath the lapping waves. His culture was based entirely on that of the sea and the dangers that came from not knowing how to behave in such a frightening expanse of water. He not only had been taught to seek food from underneath the swell, but he had been taught to fight there as well. When he was met with inquiries from the pale woman, he narrowed his brows to her and gestured with his muzzle for her to follow him back to the shore.
 
Once the sand beneath them had faded from clumped and wet to gritty and dry, he dropped the fish there and turned to face the girl. “You will… eat this,” he spoke softly, frowning. It very well could have sounded like a command, but it was his nature to speak in such a way. Flicking the tip of his tail, he returned to the questions she had prompted him with. “The salt burned as a child but I have grown so accustomed to it that it no longer ails me… and we are not the fish down there,” he darted his gaze back to the ocean waters. “We are the sharks.”