Sequoia Coast come back! even as a shadow, even as a dream.

The wraith had spent most of his time trailing the beachside in hopes that he might find the perfect land to lay claim. His wounds had healed well and he was not impaired by the injury that had plagued him. For this, he was grateful to the ivory female who had come to his aide. He could not help but to think again on their swim in the ocean water and how new it had been for the emerald-eyed witch. Skellige knew that he could rule if he could show her the true way to live with the sea. And try as he might, he could not drive the pale woman from his mind. It was so overwhelming that he could almost hear her cry against the wind.
 
But it was her cry; his dark gaze caught sight of something that filled his gut with rage. A slender halfling had somehow gripped tightly to the form of the white witch. Fur bristling, the inky wraith tore through the sands, kicking up granules as he plowed toward the two figures. Lightning cracked and struck the tree nearby, but he paid it no mind. Fire fueled his gut as he lunged towards the attacker and gripped fast to the smaller wolf’s tail. Without restraint, Skellige sank his fangs into the bone of the coywolf’s tassel and ripped it clean from the creature’s body. A guttural growl came from within his chest and he spat the limp tassel into the sands. A hurricane was brewing in his gut.