Neverwinter Forest and I know that when the flood comes, honey,

She still didn't understand what her end of the deal was, exactly. Ever an impatient creature, Seastorm tested these terms by the hour; she showed him self-sufficiency in her own small kills, strong scent markings and marred trees in the area she haunted, a vague but persistent attentiveness to his presence. Did he want a servant? Protector? Companion?

Seastorm wasn't any of these things. If he wanted more than a weapon, she'd decided, he would have to teach her. Drawn to his presence not by hunger but by the restless fury of uncertainty, the assassin leapt for the bounty hunter with teeth bared.

But there was no fire behind it; Catamaran was handed a flashy show with no substance, her bites perfunctory, meant only to express many things that Seastorm felt could not be said.