Stavanger Bay myself and the powers of darkness

Perhaps if the great brute had known, the would have spoken to quell the inner turmoil that was plaguing the small animal. All of her hard work had not gone unnoticed; the more that he traversed along the bay and noted the caches of prey, he found himself pleased that the ocean had called such a capable young wolf to aid him in his conquest of the territory. But alas, the inky wraith was not a man of words, and so he had often allowed the witch doctor to flit about without showing her the true gratitude that he had felt toward all of her actions.
 
Doe had been a flighty little creature upon arrival, but she had done well at making the bay and the wolves within it, her home. She had worked hard to gather the appropriate herbs and items for their blessing, and she had dug the prey caches as she had promised him she would do. More than this, when Skellige had called on her for medical needs, she had come without question, eager to please him. The leviathan was a lucky man, for he had the unyielding support of a very capable wolf at his side.
 
Just as he had unspoken thoughts and worries, so did the witch doctor. The wraith had simply excused her strange behavior as that of the mystic mind. He did not know that she was troubled by her doubts and by something worse that seemed to ebb away at her very being. The fear of being alone was great, swallowing, like the deep of the ocean’s swell. Skellige had not ever found himself experiencing such a phobia. Once he had been banished from Warsaw, he had been so very driven by the action that loneliness had never been a thought to cross his mind. It had been his anger that had fueled him out of the mental clasps of fear. But even as he allowed his youngest sibling to endure beatings from the others, he would continue to be blissfully unaware that there were treacherous thoughts that sank into the mind of his witch doctor.
 
As he had made his rounds along the bay, there was a familiar noise that had sounded in the length of his ears; a pip that he had grown accustomed to being his summons from the wild-limbed wolf. Drawing the length of strides into longer ones and closing the distance that had stretched between them, the great ink-coated brute looked on her with the dark of his eyes and nodded his head in greeting to the wild witch. Something about her seemed far more eager than he could have recalled before, but then he did not know what good fortunes had fallen upon them.
 
“Doctor,” the timbre of his voice rumbled through the air, and though it was uncommon, a ghost of a smile tugged on the corners of the inky titan’s lips as he gazed on her figure. Instinct told him that their time would be coming, and that they had gathered with them a strong group of wolves; he would see the bay claimed soon enough.