Stavanger Bay the lighthouse

A voice sounds, pulling the dark wolf’s ears back to catch the words of the stranger. It was the peculiar manner of the language that caused Knaven to pause in his trek, swinging his head around and fixing his sights on the she-wolf with interest. He’d never heard such words before, and he wondered if the wolves of that place were known to learn it, or if the woman had picked up the skill from somewhere else. On the islands of his home, Knaven could recall some of the witchdoctor’s speaking in what they had referred to as the language of the depths, but he’d never done well to learn it.
 
“Now, m’fraid I didn’t quite catch that,” the earthly beast spoke with a curiously warm lilt in his voice. His strapping frame turned so that he could face her fully, taking in the appearance of the female with a gaze that had settled somewhere between hungry and thoughtful. Her eyes seemed to glimmer like the moon.