Stavanger Bay fury and reason

Despite his better judgement, Floki allowed his restless paws to draw him away from Moonspear. The going was slow and he stopped often to rest, but a desire to see the ocean and smell the salty air drove him onward. He hardly paid attention to his surroundings as he traveled, tracing the all-too-familiar route that would bring him to his former home. The landscape blurred into an expanse of brown and his senses dulled -- at least until the roar of the ocean reached his ears.

He emerged from the woods that lined the inner sanctuary of Stavanger Bay, his toes sinking into the sand. He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the humid air tousle his fur. He had avoided visiting his father's desecrated grave; he had no desire to look upon the remains of what had once been Ragnar's resting place. Like Charon and Tevinter, he preferred to believe that their father was looking down on them from somewhere else -- whether that was Valhalla or some other heavenly place.

The youth padded towards the waves and paused when he noticed a pale figure a ways down the coastline. He bristled instinctively; the last wolves he had met here had been unfriendly, and there was no telling what hunger had done to the residents of the Teekon Wilds. His own stomach gave a twist, as though reminding him of its emptiness, and he waded into the shallow water, keeping his peripheral vision trained on the rangy wolf.