Shadewood the night of long fangs

Smokestep shared the same sentiments for the land as his sister; he always would. There was nothing that appealed to him about the thick trunks of the trees or the sharp pang of the thorns in the underbrush. He knew the ocean. He knew the ocean better than he knew himself. She was wild and careless, but she had given his family everything that they needed and more. Her temperament was all that he imagined it to be. Smokestep had fashioned himself after the brutal temptress.

The pale brute nodded in response to his sister's sentiment. He could not have agreed more. A short chuckle escaped from between his dark lips and he turned back to face her. “Do you think our siblings will be there still?” he inquired carefully. Their father had said that two had been left behind and they were instructed to find these two and bring them home. Smokestep certainly did not want to waste any more time scouring the woodland for Moorhen and Redshank. He did not understand how a Cairn could stand to be so far from the sea, after all.