Stavanger Bay 8 dogs 8 banjos (Optional Packtivity)

The atramentous sheepdog hesitated at the bay’s garishly marked borders, lingering like a waiflike silhouette with her catlike paws half-submerged in the lapping surf. She could see the siren of Tara so clearly, nestled amongst an odd collection of companions: a fine-boned, sharp-featured coyote; a gangly, argent-eyed puppy; and the salt-crusted and black-banded male Coelacanth had met earlier. Where did Atoll’s Shadow fit into that equation? Did she fit at all? Her heart twisted painfully, a mixture of loneliness and homesickness churning in her breast, and she stifled the whine that leapt into her useless throat. For the moment, she waded deeper into the shallows, feeling comforted by the sensation of being surrounded by water — her seablue eyes were wide and bright as she regarded the wolves who milled around the bay. It was rather like the difference between watching documentaries about sharks and very suddenly being made to swim with them.