Stavanger Bay and the rich golden hum

it is here, for better or worse, that wintersbane decides he will make his home. he bears down upon the indirect line that separates the beach of stavanger bay from the sentinels and begins to mark his claim. urinating, rubbing his body against the trees, and scratching at the earth with paw-pads and claws. distinct. unyielding; blurring right into the very cusp of the sentinels. it would be their hunting grounds, for he doubts the ashforest of the bay will attract many herding animals.

it’s an arduous and slow task; stretching from early morn into the yawning afternoon, when the sun beats down at it’s highest point upon his back. it is then that he takes a break, pacing away from the borders where he left off to a nearby stream where he laps at the cool, fresh water unable to ignore the roiling hunger in his belly now that his mind is, for the moment, distracted from task.