Stavanger Bay league of extraordinarily grumpy gentlemen

Rannoch followed after obediently, easily able to keep pace as Szymon slowed. HE had not gotten the chance to really become acquainted with the packlands. He took this opportunity to pay special mind to survey the land as they headed to their eventual destination. His turquoise eyes scanned the unfamiliar lands momentarily before returning them to the leader as he spoke. At the mention of the sea, Rannoch felt his heart freeze for a moment, still not finding any fond emotions for the waters that his new packmates seemed to love so dearly. He shook his momentary episode of panic as he focused the the road before them in an attempt to get he thoughts into line.

Syzmon lead Rannoch to an area that homed several, intricate, tidepools. He had never seen anything quite like it. The other did not provide much time to allow Rannoch to linger on the sights and, instead, directed him towards a nearby pool. As Syzmon lowered himself, Rannoch mirrored the other to the best of his ability, attempting to get the best view he could of the pool. He was quick to find  the trapped fish and the urchin. “What is that?” he asked suddenly, motioning to the odd creature with a strict lurch of his snout.