Stavanger Bay catskills in january

He was fractured, but the castaway would not have known that. The molten burning of her gaze was vacant, and so it did well to fuel his burning rage. The titan continued his internal battle to reach forward and rip her throat clean from her body. Should the sea demand a sacrifice, he would be certain to provide it. The lingering scent of her heat was enough to prevent his vicious instincts from following through.
 
Sniffing, the inky brute leaned forward until he was nearly on top of her washed frame. She did not appear as though she would fight him if he were to touch her, and so he made a motion to graze his fangs against the skin of her shoulders. If she should move to attack him, the dark sea wolf would strike her down and move forward. Her body would provide food for his wolves, and he would have no qualms with devouring her sweet flesh if the great ones had provided her. His teeth hungered for the blood of another wolf.
 
But his mind wandered to the empty youth ranks, and his plan to build an empire from the ground.
 
The heat that she was enduring would be necessary to his plans. So he did not lash out against her, and he did not flash his fangs in rage. Instead, he allowed her to creep forward, still holding his looming position over her body. It was obvious that she did not understand him, but he would force his name into her mind until it had left a burning impression there.
 
“Skellige,” his voice spilled like lava from his lips.