Stavanger Bay [m] the sparrows drag me down

This closeness was strange and new to him as well. It had only been a season, perhaps, since he'd last held one of his children, but he'd been numb to their warmth at the time. He did not know if he would feel it even now, but he could feel Marina. Her scent injected him with purpose, and though he felt quite off-kilter, his steps were sure as he followed after her, looming always no further than her hip.

She led him toward the sentinel forest, which had been underrun with black scars long before he'd first set eyes on it. Now moss and detritus covered these open wounds, less and less like scabs as ferns and other epiphytes took root. It reminded him of Blackmouth Bay, though the woods were far taller and denser, here.

"Is this were you want to stay?" he asked her without much inflection. There was a compass spinning in his head, the Plateau its unerring North. He was not sure he wanted to see it — but it would be more or less inevitable, if they stayed here.