Stavanger Bay Fiddler's green

The eastward trek had returned him to a stretch of shoreline. There was little reason to turn away from it when the sun was low in the sky and great shadows crept to swallow the earth in darkness. Foxtail preferred the sound of lapping waves to lull him to sleep. He wasn’t sure that he could find a good night’s rest in the dark of the forest to the south.

Stepping toward a lush bay, the pirate halted and lowered his head to sniff deeply at the sands that marked the edge of the territory. There were wolves in the bay.

Foxtail paced a few steps and then walked in four circles before he returned to the spot where he had scented a marking, possibly from a group intending to make a claim. It was a fine stretch of land with good hunting grounds nearby. The red-tailed man lifted his head and squinted across the beach.