Stavanger Bay towers and shadows

“Aye… wouldn’t have tried to find ye to apologize if I wasn’t,” he stated to the first question.
 
It was then that the conversation seemed to unfurl. Raptor released what he had inside of him and were it not for his place within the pack, Smokestep would have recoiled at the sharp edge in his friend’s word. The pale young Captain was not sure what he was supposed to say when confronted with such a situation. His eyes roamed over the marks on Raptor’s body with a sincere concern. The Quartermaster was mad, but the Cairn boy could not have blamed him for feeling that way. Surely, his pride would have caused him to bubble if he had been on the opposite end of their conversation, but he was fortunate in that he sat where he did. It was more than he knew how to handle with his limited years of experience, and even Raptor should have known that Smokestep was just as new to the game of leading a crew as he was.
 
A heavy sigh fell from the marauder’s lips. “Cause ye like her? Cause.. cause I made a fool o’ meself an’ sent ye off into the wilds to fuck a crazy woman…” he trailed, trying desperately to fill in the blank of the question that had been left behind. His eyes grew fretful and he searched the face of his Quartermaster with concern and fear, wondering if this meant the end of his friendship – the end of his valiant companion in the ranks of his crew – and it clutched at his heart with an iron fist. Maybe – just maybe – it was because he was not the great Captain that he had aspired to be. Perhaps Raptor had wandered off and forced himself into a difficult situation because Smokestep had treated him in ways no friend should ever have been treated.
 
“Rap… I don’t always know wot I’m doin’, an’ I’m as hot headed as the next fella, but yer a good mate and ye didn’t deserve it. Just can’t figure out how to make it up to ye.”