Stavanger Bay come wayward souls who wander through the darkness

@Deirdre

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Doubts were beginning to cloud his mind as he pricked his way along the edges of the bay; his inky coat began to rise along his neck and shoulders. There was a wild glint in the dark of his eyes. The borders of Donnelaith were close and he could smell the wolves that dwelled in the forest. The nymphs there were not likely to have him, he knew this, but he was a beast derived of determination and the plan that he had set forth was a wise one, in spite of his lack of intelligence. The brute was well versed in the ways of the dredge and the breakers. He had known war and had thrived on it for a great duration of his life, but the ways of the diplomat were almost foreign to him, and he feared that if Deirdre would ask for him to meet the members of her pack for a meeting, he would shame her.
 
Sniffing the air around him, the wraith hoped to catch the scent of the ivory-furred woman in the wood. His dark gaze followed the stretch of trunks and he breathed in the earthy aroma of the forest. It was not a place that he could ever live; the brute belonged to the rough grit of the sands and the harsh tossing of the waves. By that same token, he did not think that Deirdre would ever wish to join him on the shores. It left a sour taste in his mouth, and he gritted his fangs together until they hurt.
 
Turning away from the wood, he opted not to call to her. Perhaps it was best if he simply let her be.  

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