Stavanger Bay is it the sea you hear in me, its dissatisfactions?

The light in his gaze had turned cold in the most recent days. While he was attempting to overcome the injuries that he had suffered from the bear attack, he had felt himself growing restless. The peaceful life that he lived on the shores – it was not a life that he had intended for himself. The wraith knew that he had no reason to feel so bitter. So full of rage. Yet, when he recalled the day that he had raced into the wood and dove into the line of fire for the pale girl, he did so with a foul taste in his mouth. Skellige was a man of the sea, and he had had no place fighting in the stretch of trees. He had lost the child that he had taken under his care, and he had lost a great deal of his own strength on that day. It had all been for nothing. And that thought was the nail in the lid of his own coffin of rage.
 
When the call sounded overhead, he had been in the furthest reaches of his cavernous den. The crashing of the waves outside had nearly drowned her voice out, but his ears still swiveled forward at the fading melody. With a grunt and a difficult lurch of his stomach, the wraith lifted himself upward and began the meticulous limp toward her summons. When the dark of his eyes caught her form, he was surprised to see how well she looked. Perhaps he was weaker than she… perhaps he had no place in those lands. Skellige closed the distance in a few difficult steps, but he did not speak.