Stavanger Bay how does the wolf sing each night, of the dominion of his heart

As she spoke, he listened carefully to the manner in which she regarded the young Rannoch and her careful nose felt almost lovingly as she checked the wounds that had been inflicted to his body. The swarthy king followed her movements with a watchful calmness. While he was touchy when it came to his newly acquired scars of war, he knew that she was nothing more than a tender breath of the wood against his salty and gruff figure. Deirdre truly was a nymph of the forest and the flowers that grew against the grass beside the sea. "You may visit the boy at any time," he spoke in a slow exhale with his words.

When she had finished her inspection of his frame, she moved forward to a matter that he was not sure he understood. Skellige quickly struggled through his memory for a deal that had been struck between them, but there were too many that emerged. With furrowed brows and a slight cant of his skull, the sea wolf frowned. "I recall more than one," he remarked with a quiet "wuff" and flicked his ears forward in a swift motion. "Elaborate."