Stavanger Bay [m] the sparrows drag me down

It was westward she'd meant to take herself. Back to the place where she knew the memories stood in tangible form, the abandoned lodges and long-discarded bits of bones and pelts that told a story she'd once been able to recite by heart. Part of that story had been her own.

But Marina didn't think she could lay claim to it anymore. Maybe that was why her paws led her eastbound, tracing the coastline down to the bay. A ground-level nest along the way provided an easy snack for the journey; she was still chewing eggshells when she spotted the figure digging through the sands. At first glance she didn't recognize the wolf. Just another stranger, another soul wandering in solitude on the beach. Marina flicked an ear, but didn't call out. The days when she'd called to strangers were long behind her.