Stavanger Bay [m] Be our guest

She doesn’t turn, his voice likely lost in the crash of the waves and the whistling wind. The corner of his mouth twitches into a boyish grin as he just watches her and waits. She’ll look to the shore eventually, he reasons.

Indeed, she begins wading back toward the beach, so Bushtit calls out again. He waves for good measure, one or the other catching her attention at last. She pauses for a moment, then calls out a pleasantry before trotting closer to him.

Hi! he replies with enthusiasm. I have no complaints, he adds agreeably before offering, I’m Bushtit.