Stavanger Bay he finds wings

Some of the anxious energy in her was converted easily into interest and thankfulness when she was understood, and when the male seemed amenable to her words. He seemed even to hear what she had not said: that she was not at all sure about him or about these wolves, and was only staying so as not to lose the right to walk on her own beach.

It is my want to find you worthy, she said, somewhat chagrined to be caught out. I do not look for reasons to scorn, but reasons to respect. She was not bitter, not too proud to open herself to trust and understanding.

A smile, crooked with scars, spread her toothy maw as Wintersbane admitted he was new to the sea — she hoped he, too, would be open to respecting her knowledge of this way of life, but she did not say this. There is no kindness in this bay, she said instead, which was not exactly what she meant. Her burgundy gaze had wandered back toward the roar of the surf. Many packs have risen, and all are now fallen. She dug her claws into the sand beneath them, scoring it. It is brave to settle here, she finished, seeming finally to decide what she was going to say. She was more direct, meeting his eyes for a moment when she asked, Are you a proud man, Winter?