Stavanger Bay ocean avenue

At his bow, the young girl arched her neck and lifted her tail in a show of dominance. Though he, as an adult, obviously outranked her and may have been offended had it come from another adult, Surra's eyes only flickered good-naturedly her - she would be a fierce one when she was full grown, he guessed. "Nice t'meetcha, Mr. Pretty Surra," The young male was surprised she knew his name - he had not said it. He figured maybe Ragnar or Thistle had mentioned the names of all the Bay wolves, and as the black-coated girl pointed out his markings were not usual, so maybe she identified him based off of that. "Now how is it that you know my name and I do not know yours, young one?" Surra asked with a smile. "Junior..." He mused, remembering one of the many titles she introduced herself with, "does that mean you are named after one of your family members?"

"Is salt a, um, poison?" The girl asked him then, looked down at the water at her feet with concern. Surra chuckled. "No, salt is not a poison. It's actually good for you, in small amounts," he emphasized, trying to describe to her in simpler terms the concept of moderation. "Salt water is tricky though - you can't drink it instead of fresh water. You can drink a little bit, but too much will make your stomach hurt and dehydrate you." So much for using small words, Surra thought after letting the word 'dehydrate' slip from his lips. Though, she wasn't too young, he realized - he supposed he was used to Thistle and Ragnar's children, who had to be at least a month or two younger than this feisty girl.