Stavanger Bay And heard the sweetest sound,

The scent of blood was what attracted him. Though minuscule, the man had a sharp nose—his days of scavenging had honed the skill further. He broke away from his usual patrol route and allowed his senses to guide him.

As he ventured onward, his attention was caught by distant silvery shapes, which glinted in the light. Tahoe squinted, identifying them as fish. Dead fish, collected intentionally upon the shore. He spotted movement in the water, giving him the whereabouts of the hunter. She came to add to her collection with one—momentarily airborne—fish more. The wolf’s scent was not foreign to him; he had encountered it numerous times along the borders. Tahoe emitted a low woof in greeting as he neared, gaze focused on her black form as he approached.