Stavanger Bay inch by bloody inch

Leokadia nodded at the others word. Atoll. That and the others scent both she memorized; she needed little else. Her ears remained erect atop her crown while she waited for the other to depart, as she had said she would, for a brief moment... before deciding that she did not much care for the others eyes upon her when feasting, so long as she did not intervene. It was impersonal, but she was hungry from healing and her journey both; the lovely she-wolf Deirdre had helped her, though she had--foolishly, but intentionally--ignored the girls instruction to keep out of the water. She stretched forward a little bit, content to feel the healing wound on her back stretch... if she did this more, the scab might open, and she could be faux-concerned and visit the healer of Donnelaith again.