Stavanger Bay And in the morning sun

a pack. there was no use in pretending that anything less would sate him. not anymore. perhaps there was a part of the hale tundrian that would always feel slighted with anything less; a lost prince of a cunning empire that fell with the death of it’s nightingale queen and the fracturing of it’s kingpin’s sanity.

ironwilled and tested against the rock and sea this place is carved from. he didn’t, particularly, care if they were warriors or not; any and all would be accepted into ironclan’s fold. what mattered was they felt it was home enough to rise among its ranks and remain. that they had what it took to live as an iron and saltwolf. the sea demanded those that lived among her be hardy and hale …and wintersbane would accept no less.