Stavanger Bay he finds wings

crab? wintersbane repeats; deadpan. he knows well enough what a crab is but cannot see how a crab would be sustaining for him foodwise in any degree. perhaps if he were malnourished and starving he wouldn't be so picky but ...really. a tiny crab was hardly worth the effort to hunt for him. nevertheless, the tundrian follows after her as she leads the way, figuring that, if nothing else, it would be something useful to know to teach his future cubs.
confident as he was ( with no evidence otherwise ) that he would sire his fair share of cubs this coming season.

yes. he responds to assure her. in truth, wintersbane shows more interest in the promise of a further lesson: of learning to predict the tide, as it fell in line with what he was attempting to learn on his own. watching the skies above the sea for signs of storms and trying to predict how bad they might be. i've been teaching myself to watch the skies over the sea, to be able to predict when a storm is brewing and how bad it might be, wintersbane informs her as they walk. the coast was hit pretty bad a while ago. forced some packs to temporarily relocate. he wants to be as ahead of the ball as he realistically can on having the pack ready to seek temporary respite further inland in the event they face something akin to the storms again.
on that thought, he makes a little mental reminder to scout neutral territories for their in-land shelter.