Stavanger Bay there she shot poor william taylor

Godot was adventuring at the shore.  After discovering that the sea enjoyed dropping off all kinds of interesting things, she showed up more frequently to see what the day or a little grim weather seemed to deliver. Today there wasn't anything fascinating, really.  Other than.. Was that a piece of driftwood?  Well, she could always bring that back to chew on.  Hm.  It was stuck just inside the water, poking up from the ground.  She'd have to wade in just a tad to inspect it.  She still wasn't entirely certain of her seafaring abilities, so sticking to the shallows was still more her jam.

Eventually, after watching the water a bit, she splashed in and started tugging at the stick, which didn't seem to want to give way.  Annoying that.  This was probably about where she'd come into Smokestep's field of view.  Godot paused, shuffled to the other side and tugged it again, growling ferociously at the stupid stick.  Why wasn't it moving? UGH.  What she didn't know was that the "stick" was more like half a tree that was sunk into the sand, even more disguised by the churning water.  No way it'd move for someone as scrawny as her, let alone any wolf this side of fantasy.

As she orbited the stick again, spotted the Captain approaching at last.  She barked at him, her tail lashing before she lashed out at the stick in irritation again.  Come FREE you stupid thing!  Godot was just a teeny bit stubborn.