Stavanger Bay [m] the sparrows drag me down

The ruined forest was still and silent, a stark contrast to the liveliness of the bay. It suited her most days. Marina found herself casting a newly critical eye over the burned trees, the thin veneer of delicate verdure hiding dark damp soil. Self-conscious, perhaps, of her own choice now that there were new eyes to see it. She glanced at Dutch when he spoke.

Sometimes the Sound still calls to me, she confessed softly. Where I whelped my last litter. Marina would not speak of their violent conception, she decided then — but she would speak of the decisions she'd made in the aftermath. The reality she'd been forced to live. North of here. But I think I could be content anywhere by the sea.

And you? Her dark eyes softened as they lingered on the aching familiarity of his features. Each moment was a reluctant thawing of the ice she'd formed around herself. She didn't want it, not really — but neither could she fathom taking any other path.