Gilded Bay and draws strength

i'm hoping for a wild @Miwa; but all welcome!

the late morn is chilly; wind more harsh and unforgiving, especially where it roils off the sea carrying the sharp tang of salt and tiny pellets of sand. it is cold and unforgiving terrain that the hale tundrian was born and bred for. unperturbed, he pushes past the western border of the sentinels where the hunting grounds of ironclan will end and into the gilded bay that was never before of much interest to him.

it still wasn't; not really. but it is not a territory he's ever found himself in before and curiosity steals him away from his task of herd tracking. the spires that rise into the air of the bay are short and thick; the l(s)and underpaw littered with rocks: some polished smooth by the ebbing flow of the tide while others retained their jagged and uneven nature like monster teeth spit from the abyss upon the high tide.

wintersbane's pace slows now to a stop, shifting thru the rocks with a broad paw; polar gaze studying a seapolished opal colored stone whose iridescent sheen catches the light of the sun and draws his eye. he's never had a magpie nature, never taken an interest in collecting things as his father ( specifically as witchdoctor ) before him; but cannot deny that he's tempted to scoop it up and take it back to stavanger bay with him all the same.