Stavanger Bay The coffin-bangers were about to arrive.

the sealord is like his shadow; fitting for her physical description at least. even so, the saltking does not mind. they are two sides to the same sword now, and thus she has much a stake in ironclan as he. a nod of affirmation is given as the stranger repeats the pack name. in return, he offers his own name and a name that is presumably a pack’s, even stating that this moonsong is located on the glacier not far from the bay. i was not aware the glacier was claimed. wintersbane states, whiskey-steeped tone contemplative; a low rumble of perhaps skeptical contemplation as he sizes the stranger up. and the empress of the isles did not mention it to me when we spoke. surely, if there was another neighbor ( more or less ) to contend with she’d have spoken of it.

if there was truth to what this revui says, or even if this moonsong is a forming pack like ironclan, the empress would like to hear of it.

they don’t have an alliance — not yet, at any rate — but they would be the reigning forces on this coast ( he intentionally ignores rusalka’s existence ) and figures it best he confers with her.

not too fresh, wintersbane counters. we’ve been here almost a month or so, maybe a bit longer, he informs, polar gaze unyielding. we are seven strong and growing.

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