Ankyra Sound one gonna help me talk right, one gonna lay me down to sleep

The ashen brute had remained on the coast. It had been Caiaphas’ wish. She had wanted to return to her home. Kierke could not blame her for this. Though his heart was that of a vagabond, he had known many to settle down - to become attached to their own setting. The ocean had never suited him much. He had always preferred the rough outline of a rocky mountainside. Still, the ghost would not leave her side; not again. She had been granted a permanent companion in the rugged mercenary. The bright-eyed sea wolf would not lose him. 

For the first time in a long while, the brute wandered the shore. The length of his limbs allowed him to move at a leisurely yet productive pace. His eyes followed the stray signs of life until he had plucked out a dark figure who was meandering not far ahead. With some interest, Kierkegaard watched the young figure move along in his forlorn pattern. The ghost did not slow his steps, but continued on toward the stranger.