Stavanger Bay Spirit cold

She dreamed vividly of her family, her real family: Harlyn, Mordecai, Silas and Pippin. They were back home in Lost Creek Hollow. The locusts had never come, the famine had never struck. Everybody was happy and healthy. Larkspur gloried in it, up until a dark cloud moved in overhead. She hated storms. She shivered as she looked up to the sky, then made to press closer to her mother. But when her guileless blue eyes dropped, her parents and brothers were nowhere to be seen.

"Mommy! Daddy!" she cried, jumping to all fours, heart beating frantically. Thunder rumbled right over top of her and Spur let out a squeak as she began to run through the familiar forest. "Silas!" she called plaintively. The usually nimble youngster caught her ankle in a root and fell flat on her face. She spluttered and waited for the pain to hit. It never did, though she didn't really question it. She just stood and resumed running, the air darkening all around her until it was pitch black.

Her mouth opened to scream Pip's name this time—"Pippin!"—and she sat up gasping, blinking blearily at the shadowy walls of a den. Heart beating wildly in her chest, Sharkbait blinked in the darkness. She made out a shape nearby. Daddy... she thought dimly as her eyes adjusted and she recognized Skellige's hulking form curled nearby. Somehow, that title felt incredibly wrong. Actually, everything felt wrong. Sharkbait had no recollection of the dream but her usual anxiety was dialed up to fever pitch.

Breathing hard, she tiptoed around the sleeping Leviathan and tumbled into the still August night. The air was balmy but the instant she set foot outside, a breathy little breeze tousled the red fur at her nape. The youth gulped in breaths, trying to steady herself, and looked out to the nearby sea. The pounding surf reached her ears and the waters glimmered under the light of the moon. It was all by now rather familiar but something about the picture continued to unsettle her deeply. A full-body shudder wracked her.

Just for something to do, the Benthos began to plod west across the bay's territory, trying to identify the feeling swelling in her chest. But she just couldn't figure it out. She was pining for something... but what? Sharkbait swallowed and stilled, finding herself staring inland now, sad and frustrated by her inability to put a finger on the sensation growing and growing inside of her, unaware that she was experiencing a poignant brand of homesickness.