Stavanger Bay You ask me to enter

He contined to inspect the strange shapes beneath him, but found mostly rocks, or what he believed to be rocks. Some he nudged, others he lipped, or grabbed with his teeth, and sometimes when he bit them he made a strange face, only to spit them out again. The majority of what Tetsubo found were indeed real rocks; they did not make the wet cracking sound that he had heard before, and nothing rancid fell from their depths, because, like him, they lacked anything inside.

When finally he managed to lift free some clams and crack them, the instantaneous burst of flavor and strange saltiness made him spit them back out again quickly. They had not gone bad like the bits and pieces the gray woman had tried to eat - he just found no appeal within the brine of their meaty innards. This was fine. Tetsubo was hungry, and he had learned of these clam things, but he had also learned they were not his ideal concept of sustenance.

Spitting a few shards of clamshell from upon his tongue in to the sand, he looked hesitantly at the gray woman, as if trying to decide whether to speak again, or to give chase, or maybe just to study her in case of future encounters — and then he turned and began to leave her, silently, creeping upon the beach in search of something of more value.