Stavanger Bay sending a danger signal

Boo, just shy of ten posts. ;-; Thank you for the thread, anyway! And no worries!

Something Szymon had said had evidently touched a nerve in the warrior woman he was just beginning to respect and know — the smile disappeared from her features and her tail ceased its wagging, which did not surprise him, given the gravity of his command. He was not speaking of something light and innocuous — he was speaking of the pack’s witch doctor, whose small, fine-boned frame could easily be damaged even by accident. Friendship did not come swiftly or easily for the young Cairn, who had more than enough reason to be suspicious of the influx of wolves he did not know; and he did not appreciate the reproach in Lagertha’s tone. He repeated the conversation in his mind — “she is fond of you,” “you have taught her much,” “you will take great care with her,” — and found nothing amiss. He had not threatened the woman or chided her, and even now, as she turned her back on him despite his superior rank and strode swiftly away, he said nothing.

One tattered ear fanned out toward the crash of the waves as he impassively watched the small woman flee, her muscles taut and rigid with the tendrils of distress his candid words had wrought. A touchy creature, or so it seemed. In a continuation of that fluid motion, Szymon turned his full attention to the Sea — he had his own personal agenda to tend to, which involved stocking the caches so that his brother’s pack members would never face the famine these wilds had suffered only a short while ago.