Stavanger Bay to light a candle is to cast a shadow

The wolf Miranda went on to explain where he was from – a place called Alaska. The cream-touched male then went on to explain that the name of it meant ‘what the sea is directed to’ which caused a curious reaction in the druid. His features fell slightly, and his expression became sterner. The tension that settled in his back could only be noted if Miranda had been standing right beside him – touching him – but Knaven did what he could to swallow his disdain for the other man’s home and the meaning behind it’s peculiar name.
 
The sea was bound by nothing, pointed toward nowhere; the sea was limitless and could be tamed by nothing.
 
The words of his father echoed in his mind, but Knaven did not speak them out loud, nor did he comment on the nostalgic whims of the other man. He simply let the words go, knowing that they had inspired a toxic feeling within him. It was in the blood of the Cairn wolves, after all. They belonged to the sea, body and soul. They understood the dangers of those waters and the beasts that lurked in the deepest darkest portions.
 
“Oh, I’ve got quite the knack for catchin’ crabs,” the druid remarked in a rugged but charming voice. Had the two of them been men, this type of comment might have inspired a childish giggle at the inappropriate subtext. Instead, Knaven cast a sidelong glance to the pale wolf beside him and motioned with his muzzle for Miranda to follow. “You have good taste if that’s what yer craving,” he then commented with a sly smirk that settled much too easily on his features.