Stavanger Bay follow your nose it always knows

She hated to be parted from the sea, though her reason was weak; it was the most familiar thing to her, and the further inland she traveled, the more lost to time she felt. It was true that she wasn't particularly fond of other wolves, but to be a wolf was to function within a pack -- at least, that was what instinct screamed within her blood. She did her best to ignore it, and by extension keep her anxieties at bay.

Still, this place didn't seem to be lacking in wolves or claimed land; it was more a matter of which would accept her, and if she would accept them. Morrighan was not sure where to start with this, having never remembered being part of such a community, only inexplicably knowing that it was what nature demanded of her. It seemed like asking for trouble, to merely show up where a scent was thick and ask awkwardly, "Will you be my home?"

So lacking any place better to go, she went where she was comfortable. As the hard land gave way to sand that cushioned her paws, unseasonably cold for this time of year, she exhaled heavily in relief and set her mismatched gaze upon the rolling waves. She did not yet notice the white male some ways off, somewhat blended with the shore and obscured by the ribs of some long-dead sea beast, and made her way closer to the shallows of the bay.