Stavanger Bay wild and water take us both

It would have been difficult not to notice the many glances Smokestep gave him on their way down to the bay. Either he was expecting Brig to bolt -- unlikely -- or he was...maybe expecting Adéwalé to do something? Just checking to see that they hadn't gotten lost? The idea that it might have been his leg never crossed his mind -- it was hard for someone who'd never felt pain to even comprehend potential concern about it. 

The jackdaw on his shoulder remained silent as they walked, though Brig knew he was going to get an earful about something sooner or later, even as the fire-scarred forest and the fallen trees parted into snow-covered plains and river. Somewhere nearby was the crash of water he'd long associated with waterfalls, and beyond that, between jagged stone cliffs, was snow-flecked beach and stormy grey ocean stretching far into the distance. He realized, abruptly, he'd stopped walking to stare.

It felt like a long time since he'd seen the sea.

"You've found yourself one hell of a place here," Brig said. He'd almost been expecting rocky, unfriendly coast, all steep cliffs and rocks, but without the snow -- there would be soft sand, places to hide where the cliffs met the shore. It was something he could certainly get used to.