Stavanger Bay take care, they said

Another leader in those lands, and he went by the moniker Charon. Skellige allowed his dark gaze to travel over across the land in search of the mountain that the dappled male called home. When he had settled on the figure that must have been home for the man, he wondered what had driven the wolf so far away from the ocean and toward the rock at the center of the earth. It was not a question that was appropriate to ask of a stranger, so he held his tongue and flicked his gaze back to the fellow leader without a change in expression. Once the dappled male inquired about the mystics, the leviathan seemed to take on a look of surprise. It etched into his grizzled features for only a fraction of a second before it was washed away.
 
“The mystics are the great spirits of the sea,” he spoke firmly. Again, he had been surprised that Doe had not piped up to speak of the great ones with whom she was so closely associated. He could only excuse the behavior based on the idea that she must have been shocked that this wolf did not know of their ancient beings. “The bay is very suitable for myself, and for my people,” the wraith then added with a small nod of his crown. Though he had gathered wolves who knew very little of his culture, they were quick to adapt and to learn. He could not help but to believe that it had been fated.
 
“What drew you away from it?” he inquired with a slight cant of his skull.