Stavanger Bay we gather in shadow and ash

"She will be calmed," Doe replied, ears flickering in something like worry as she listened to her husband's plea. She would have to, when Doe reminded her of the sacrifices she had made, of the children she had given up into the waves, of the blood that she'd spilt - some pure, and some her own. She would have to understand, would have to be appeased. "We have been faithful, Szymon. She will be calmed."

There was no word for 'ocean' in her mother's tongue, but Doe padded into the icy surf singing of and endlessness that exceeded the sky's, the deepness that dwarfed the red canyons, the vivid blue that went unmatched, the Wickedness and all Her wrath - there was no word for ocean, but there were words enough. And Doe entreated the Sea, begging mercy from Her trails, assuring that she would be better heeded from then on.

We have heard you. We will not forget again.

But the waves still lashed against them, anger in every crash. Doe turned toward her mate, apology in her eyes, and lashed out, her teeth scoring pink welts into his tender flesh, which filled quickly with blood that began to run down into the water.