Sea Lion Shores frighten being you better run

The ghost had wanted to know the rest of the coast as well as his father had. He had taken his time in picking along the shores, watching the waves. The ocean was vast and even more so was the land that touched it. It varied from shimmering sands to imposing cliff faces that dropped into nothing but her tantalizing grasp. Kingfisher understood why Skellige had been fond – even obsessive – over the territories that were nearby. The seafaring wolf was proud to know that he had been born to the wilds. His blood ran with her waters and he had finally returned to where he was intended to be.

Sauntering at an even pace, the pale marauder made his way along the edges of the water. The ebb and flow of the waves would bring her touch to his feet and he would feel a chill of excitement race down his spine. Not too far ahead of him, a voice was carried to the stretch of his ears. His mismatched gaze found the trailing figure of a stranger. The pirate watched as she continued forward, her voice drifting along peacefully.