Stavanger Bay All is well as the world turns

Wip had met the morning with an alertness of a new pack member. She insisted on sleeping next to the Ocean, feeling eclipsed by its vastness, thus being forced to awake early less the cold it gave off killed her. It had become a bit of a routine, to rise before the sun so as to work her muscles and generate some heat. She had enjoyed this new blue bedmate, but was beginning to reconcile with the fact that the coldness of winter would make it hard for her to sustain this for too long. Either way, she was happy that it forced her to be productive in the mornings, and so she spent them inspecting the pack borders, trying to get to know them better.

She smelled Thistle in the boundaries, and another wolf, which Wip could only assume was the as of yet unamed Ragnar. Her nose quivered at the traces of his masculine musk, and again she felt that flop of anxiety within her stomach. She had yet to meet the male, and she could only hope he was as agreeable as his feminine counterpart. It was then that she noticed the presence of said female, and Wip’s tail twitched with excitement. Their last encounter had not been too long ago, and Wip hoped her presence would not become a nuisance. Thistle had evidently been at work with the borders before she, and Wip noticed the dew that clung to her coat. She approached her slowly, and greeted her with familiarity, nudging the other’s chin with a lick of respect and then retreating to give her space.

Mornin’ Thistle Cloud.