Stavanger Bay I prefer to achieve immortality by not dying

The ceaseless squawking of seagulls overhead had been a noise that Smokestep had drown out long ego. From birth, he had experienced their vexatious cries, but a year had treated him kindly. The pale wolf trotted lazily down the beach in search of his pack mates; a pair of mismatched optics sought the figures that he knew well enough, but it had been some time since he’d seen his good friend Raptor and Roz had not been fond of chatting after their last fight. Instead, he followed the pesky birds to a humorous situation that left him chuckling quietly to himself.
 
The quiet woman he had called Hex seemed to have found the carcass of a young sea lion that had washed ashore. She was in the process of feasting and fighting away the keen birds that fluttered over her head. Each snap of her fangs proved to be an intense gesture of displeasure for their company. He moved toward her before chuffing to announce his presence. “Ahoy, lass,” he called with a cheeky smile. “Would ye like somethin’ fresher?”