Stavanger Bay deixar lo sortir

his laughter was a dark susurration carried off by the next briny wind. "yes. i used to live there. blossom was born in the creek."
well. almost.
"if she ever returned, she might go to that place." he sighed; the breeze caught at his ears and, caught in a restless tow, lestan rose and paced energetically along the beachfront. this place had been all he'd known for so long — how could he leave?
the thing netted in his fur had long since ceased registering to lestan as a foreign object; he stared mournfully toward the ocean for the four-hundredth time that day and heaved another long exhale.