Gilded Bay ebbed and flowed

The term was lost on him – a language he did not understand – but he accepted it as a term of endearment, as that was how it was presented. Once he had dipped his head, the great warhound set off back the way he had come from. Over sandy hills and rocky slopes, the inky titan traveled without stopping. The light beyond seemed to flicker before fading behind the mask of a looming mountain. It was not until the tendrils of darkness enveloped his frame that he turned his head back around to gaze through the darkness toward where he had met the golden stranger.

Ford should have hoped that all of his meetings would be that pleasant – that he would find others who adored the sea with their entire form. The titan could only wait to see what the future would hold for him. Instinct had told him that Govinda would provide a good ally, when they had both settled. There was still a part of the warhound that wanted the golden seawolf for himself. Stormrift would have profited greatly from that kind of mentality, he knew.

Once he had reached the bay, the weary figure found comfort in the cavernous den that he had turned into a home. Moonlight flickered from the top of the ocean outside and cast a pale blue light on his hole in the stone. There, he drifted into peaceful slumber.