Sea Lion Shores the halls of our fathers

“I am not alone.”

Ragna spoke of allies and family — specifically, brothers — and Szymon’s stiffened posture relaxed slightly at the odd sense of relief he felt. It contented him to know that the blue-eyed girl was not completely alone in these wilds, though he made a mental note to inform Skellige about the former Jarl’s children, lest they raise an army to reclaim the place of their birth. Little did he know that he had already met and hunted with one of them — he and Charon had not delved deeply into conversation, for Szymon had been in a terribly foul mood and they had both been preoccupied by the chase.

A sudden, violent clench of Szymon’s empty stomach reminded him that he had not stopped to eat, but he was enjoying the strange female’s company and did not wish to end their conversation. Judging that now was as good a time as any to make his proposal, “Y-You were b-b-born by the Sea,” he remarked, fixing her with a suddenly mischievous glance. “Do you f-f-fish like a sea w-wolf?” Now the growl of his stomach became audible, and he grinned at Ragna without reservation or shame. Hunger was a natural, normal thing, and it was not bad manners in his book to have an outward display of it.