Stavanger Bay like a sandbox

Hunting shore prey had been his forte for most of his life. The storm-gray knight waded through the water, swiftly darting for the plump fish that dared swim close. The knight snapped his jaws closed around the tail of one of them, dragging it out of the water. It wriggled piteously, trying to slap him with its fins, but to no avail. Mordred dragged himself out of the water and slammed it onto a rock, stilling its frantic movements.

He hunted one fish at a time, mainly because the seagulls and other scavengers would take full advantage of buried food if he gave them the change. With another one caught, the knight turned back to the mainland, where the land would retain a fish for longer.

As he walked back, he saw another wolf sitting on the seashore. One first sight his hackles raised, for he did not recognize the wolf. But, above the fishy smell, he could scent Ragnar on his fur. The male relaxed and walked over to his presumed packmate, dropping the fish on the ground. "Well met."