Stavanger Bay always keep em on a leash

The morning on the Bay's shore was cool, the salty breeze that rolled off the sea sticking to his fur as the melanistic coywolf made his way through the sands. He wasn't a man of the sea. He'd grown up in a woodland that gradually gave way to the hollow that named this natal pack and while the sea did not make the gangster uncomfortable it was no Two Rivers Isle. The more he thought about it, replaying the scenario in his mind, the more it boiled his blood. He hadn't forgotten, of course. There was no forgetting the vicious sting of failure to his pride. He had survived the fucking famine to have some elder tell him that the Isle wasn't his when it had been the gangster's long before they'd settled their pathetic little family upon it's lands. For a wild moment, he considered taking it over. The alpha male was old and Arturo had the advantage of youth. Take his pack, take his woman. Neither were gentlemanly things to do, admittedly, but he wanted revenge and it wanted it to be sweet — for him, at least.

The thought of carrying out the action had the coywolf's heart beating faster in his chest, his mind less focused on his path, ignoring the frothing sea foam that lapped and splashed up upon his long legs, soaking the fur with sticky saltwater and more upon the cruel plan taking form in his mind. Of course, it wasn't overly logical. He would have no support. He couldn't even hold a decent rank in the Depths ...and there was the little problem of Riptide to consider. Though lately, he'd been himself more and more as if the sea witch had begun to sink back into whatever hole from hell he'd crawled out of. Perhaps it meant his mind was healing from the tumble from the cliffs. Or perhaps it was only circumstance. He couldn't and wasn't willing to bank complete and utter confidence upon it. Not yet.

The idea was grand but it held no merit. So why, then, did it entice him so bad? A soft huff left the gangster's lips as he gave his head a shake, tucking those thoughts away, refocusing his fiery, orange-red gaze upon the stretch of sand and waves before him.