Ankyra Sound there's an oily brine bilgewater baptism waiting below

A brother came to their shoulder, silent but with a clear wish to scold her

In half a breath the wretch was released,
Nipping at young flesh like the nastiest of beasts
It was not him they wanted, but the wolf with scents from the east

He spoke with a strange tongue,
Saddened eyes with a song unsung
Shooting a glare at brother, they moved from where he clung

A daring escapade,
Stepping up to the stranger they did not appear afraid
Sleek and slender, they thought that he must have it made

A gesture to the water, they wonder if he feels fear
Fish, they spoke, despite the clear drear