Stavanger Bay Long shadows

Godot wasn't one who spent too much time down by the shore, at least not in this weather.  She hid among the trees, dancing around the edges of the pack.  Despite Smokestep's assurances that his crew wasn't going to be like a normal pack -- or at least she didn't have to act the way she had in them -- it was a hard habit to break.  She'd been almost stomped into the ground to be forced to behave previously, and she wasn't keen on risking it again so early.  Why would she?  It wasn't like she had any chance of sticking around, based on past evidence, so why would she rush the process?  Avoiding others was the safest position.

Either way, it was a cold morning, just like all the others.  Most of Godot's prowling was within a few hundred yards of a tree with a slightly hollow base where there was now a small collection of objects -- a few ocean-tumbled rocks, a piece of sea glass, part of an antler, a few bones from an indeterminate source, a few wing feathers from gulls.  It was obviously not a natural collection, and the amount of paw prints and scents around it did make it pretty clear it was Godot's doing.  She, though, was just returning from the beach, a piece of well-polished driftwood in her jaws that she intended to add to the pile, but she wasn't there yet.  It'd be another few minutes before she arrived, however.