Stavanger Bay archaic

Gulls wheeled and danced, gleeful cries echoing off the rocks. Far above them soared a raptor, and among them hopped sure-footed ravens, silent as the hopped near, driven back by the gulls as they fought. The woman knew the signs of a body, and she picked her way over the rocks with a quiet grace as she drew near, fur pulled and tugged by the wind, gaze intent. The gulls wheeled away, screaming now, as her approach had them scatter. The ravens, bolder and smarter, waited silently on the rocks nearby, knowing very well that their turn would come. 

The witch's gaze travelled up and down the mangled thing at her feet, the pale bones, bleached flesh, the smell of brine and rot. A wolf's skull; the canines and slope of the muzzle made that much obvious. Flesh and tendons clung to the corpse, accompanied by scattered bits of flesh and fur; dark in colour. Fur and bones lay scattered too on the rocks, evidence that the body had been here for a time. Wordlessly, Thelxiope placed the onyx stone on the skull, chanting softly as she stepped back, words that slid from her tongue in a near-chaotic, soft stream of ancient words. She lapsed into silence, rites complete, watching carefully the body that the sea had disgorged and wondered at the circumstances of the bodies death, and just how it had come to be stranded on the rocks.