Stavanger Bay stealin' wheat and barley an' all the other grains,

Okay, so waking up in the middle of nowhere really sucked, but at least he'd gotten his bearings pretty quickly. He'd had half a mind to follow the dark woman on her way back to her mountain, but in the end the yearning to reunite with the sea had been too much. Dubloon tried his best to get himself oriented to a land-locked existence (even though the thought made his stomach churn like a raging sea); such a life was not welcomed by a beast such as he, who had braved many days by the open ocean and knew nothing else.

It was hardly surprising then, when he came upon the familiar scent of salt and began to whoop and holler his gladness for finding his way home, more or less. The brine scent instilled a hastening to his investigation. He forgot about hunting for a few days, ignored the need for sleep, and was more than thrilled when he came upon the familiar sound of the ocean waves crashing upon the distant shore — it had been weeks since he'd arrived in this strange place but now, with the ocean beckoning him, he felt as if he could relax.

So engrossed was the pirate, he hardly took notice as his path weaved close to a claimed section of the beach; he drank in the scent of the salt wind, kicked at discarded piles of shell, even played a few rounds of tug o' war with tendrils of soaking seaweed, before finally realizing how exhausted he was and plunking himself in a sand bank, which gave way after a moment or two. As he slid to a halt on the lower end of the incline his chocolate coat was a mess of sand, shell, and bits of dried grass.

But hell, he'd found the sea again — so who really cared about the rest?