Stavanger Bay he finds wings

The man's reluctance to involve himself was both amusing and disappointing to the erne — she wondered what about the bay had drawn him, if he did not consider the ocean a proper hunting ground. Ah, she said as she caught up to the scuttling crab and trapped it with a paw on its back. You are tørrmage — Like white snow. You melt in the rain?

There was an arch lilt to the words, but a look of focused ignorance on her face. Sometimes, she could get away with saying somewhat controversial or insulting things by pretending the language barrier was the real culprit.

Try, she insisted, ducking down to catch the crab at its "tail"-end. Holding it this way, it was not easily able to pinch her — but its pincers flailed threateningly as she advanced toward Wintersbane.