Ocean's Breath Plateau Salt

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The wiry woman spoke of an unknown man who had called her, and Skellige frowned at the prospect of another male having breached so closely to the land he had sought to claim. The plateau sat just on the other side of the bay, but was close enough to Donnelaith that it caused the wraith’s skin to prick with unease. He thought for a moment of the pearl of the forest… Deirdre, and his chest tightened. When the light struck the woman’s gaze once more, all former unease disappeared. There was a wildness there that he found familiar and almost calming.
 
The Witch Doctors of Warsaw were vile little creatures with powerful spirits on their sides. The witch who had blessed Skellige with the spirit of the great white had been one of the oldest and fiercest of her kind; she wore the skulls of several fallen victims around her throat and dressed her skull in plants from the sea. Though this stranger on the cliffs was foreign to him, the flash of her gaze and the way in which she spoke reminded him of the strange ways of his home land.
 
Fixing her with his dark eyes, the wraith lifted his crown and reeled the leather of his lips over his sharp canines. “He spoke to you,” the beast echoed with furrowed brows. Flicking his ears forward, the great titan frowned and titled his head ever so slightly to the left. Perhaps it had been the spirits that those witches had spoken so fondly of who had called this woman to their clutches. They had spoken many times of destiny and the ways of the sea, but he had never been privy to such information. This moment felt as though it was a sign.
 
“You answered the call, witch doctor. They have sent you to me,” he spoke and the timbre of his voice seemed to shake the air around him. There was a light in his gaze that had not been there before; a hunger that felt akin to his homeland and the terror that had ensued there. Drawing himself closer to the female, the brute breathed in her scent and was surprised that it did not carry the sharp tang of the ocean. Perhaps she was a fledgling.
 
Drawing his coral-colored tongue across his lips and muzzle, the wraith loomed over her with an inspecting eye. “Have you any alliances, doctor?” he inquired with a single quirked brow. If she was not a sign, then she was certainly a test, and he would not fail this time.

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