Gilded Bay Waiting for the tune of some old dying man

@Muses

The roar of the sea was loud in his ears, just as he liked. He had missed the sounds and smells of the ocean; no other geographical area touched his soul in the same way, if at all. Since returning from his failed venture of find his sister, Jagoda was eager to resume his duties as an angler. His personal cache was depleated to the point of emptiness and that was enough to send him into a bitter state. But the masked brute was not one for self pity. He knew that the only way to tip his outlook upright was to dive into his work, and that was gis intention as he neares the tidepools of Gilded Bay.

It remained stormy, the coast rendered a frigid chaos of sharp wind and icy rain. The weather bothered him little -- aside from the obvious practical issues of fishing in a storm, Jagoda preferred it this way. He climbed carefully along the slick rocks of the shore, leathery pads as sure as the hooves of a moutain goat. Before long,  the dark beast came upon a small pool and decided to look there. Sometimes when the weather was stormy, fish from the sea and estuary both were trapped within the tide pools. He stepped down to the edge and peered into the black water.