Stavanger Bay when he was a boy he wanted to play down by the sea

it was not cold anger that squeezed her heart, but hot and sharp pain. raptor's calls after her were futile - she did not slow. in fact, his pleads seemed to have the opposite effect -- she made even faster away from him.

her heart and her head and every part of her body was pounding as she tore down the shore, careless of anything in her way. she dove through a flock of seagulls that were sent into the air abruptly by her rude intrusion, and she hardly had the spirit to snap after them.

somehow, this hurt -- it hurt far more than rosalyn's teeth in her flank, it hurt far more than the eyes of the audience that had witnessed her be dethroned. no, this was a different kind of hurt that no matter how fast her legs fell nor how hard the bracing air burned her tight lungs, it did not cease.

tears, fat and bulbous and brimming, formed and slid down her half-closed eyes as she bolted -- and in a few short seconds, she was but a speck of red along the rim of stavanger's coast.