Stavanger Bay where the emptiness we leave behind on warm air rising

Their piping did not bother the vapid shewolf, who got a mindless sort of enjoyment out of their varying calls. Most creatures would find the constant squalling irritating, but not Doe. Whether they were happy or enraged, it tickled her to no end that she'd made these creatures - cooked them up in her own belly - and now they were making sounds.

Sometimes, she would chime in with them, adding her own voice to spice up their songs, but for the most part, she just listened, intervening only when necessary or when she grew too endeared with them to restrain herself.

Her doting was interrupted when Szymon appeared, making his usually silly joke. Doe let out a mirthful bark, tail sweeping feathers up into the air as it fanned out behind her.

"Don't teach them your humor, Szy," she scolded, allowing him to prod the kids as he saw fit.