Stavanger Bay you know how it is

Weather: 23°F, mostly cloudy. Light snow (< 1 in.) starting later this afternoon, continuing until this evening.

After making his way through the ripped-up forest, Dune had continued north until he reached the coast. The vastness of the ocean was just as intimidating as he had remembered it, and the wolf sucked in salty air through his nostrils. He traveled east for a little while until he began to recognize the telltale signs of a pack, which was where he stopped. One of the strongest smells was also one that he recognized, but he could not place it. It could not have been somebody he knew very well.

He didn't intend to stay long, and since this seemed like the end of his journey, Dune planned to turn back in the next few minutes. For now, he lingered on the border, trying to remember who that smell was.

And who was this!?

The stranger's white elicited a sense of familiarity, though she wasn't sure why.  He was loitering for some strange reason, so she decided to intercept.  She'd put herself in a position here and if she wanted to keep it, she needed to do her part in protecting and participating.

"Ahoy! Want something?" She called out, trotting up to him as she did so.  Jeeze this was annoying.  It was that feeling when she forgot something but it was on the tip of her tongue, ready to be remembered hours later when it no longer mattered.

It seemed that pacing the borders was all that he could do to keep his mind from it, and so he had worked around to his third lap before setting a ghostly white figure in his crosshairs and making his way toward it. Knowing his luck, it would be a long lost sibling and he'd be forced to be genial. Though, as he drew closer, the shape took on a shape of familiarity. Smokestep had run into this brute once upon a time and he recalled the deep, dark of the wood on the evening that he had. Before he had a chance to pass a greeting, she appeared at the edges of the pack as though they were her own. A jealous fire was lit in his gut and Smokestep debated leaving her there; she could tend to the strays who wandered across the edges of the Ironsea territory. Instead, he opted to make himself far more important.

Strolling forward without so much as a glance in the direction of Rosalyn, Smokestep drew his head upward and offered a crooked smile to the blue-eyed male. “Oi, good to see ya again, mate,” he greeted in a loud and jovial tone. His tail flagged only for Dune. If he held it long enough, Smokestep wondered if he could make Roz disappear altogether. It was the knowing that she was there that killed him. Casting her a salty expression from the corner of his eye, he focused his attentions on the visitor. In his hastiness, the pale corsair realized that he had entirely forgotten this wolf's name. “Doom, wasn't it?”

Unlike Corinna, who had barely left an impression on Dune, this was not the wolf he had expected to show up. In fact, the mere sight of her sent the hair on his neck ruffling upward. Dune managed to keep it to just that, restraining himself from lashing out on her home turf. He was at a disadvantage here—he knew that much. Dune would have turned around and made off without any fuss, but another wolf approached, and that was the scent he had recognized.

"Dune," he corrected gently. "You Smokestep," he recalled, glancing at the black wolf beside the white. The encounter with Smokestep had been... tense, but not as horrendous as the one with the black wolf and coyote. Dune had wanted to sleep, and Smokestep had wanted to chat. Those two things didn't go together very well. There was tension between these two as well, and Dune immediately placed the blame on the dark one, considering she had nearly gotten him killed.

Smokestep strolled up right after, but if Rosalyn expected anything, it wasn't to be both ignored and somewhat shunned.  Noting Smokestep's attitude and friendliness, she quickly and accurately surmised it might be best if she just ignored that her question had been asked as well.  That was her cue.

Knowing she wouldn't continue to dance around the issue, but refusing to confront him in front of a stranger, Rosalyn turned without a word and departed, leaving them to their own devices.

“Dune.”

The patient correction fell against his ears and he flattened them, embarrassed. His cheeks flushed red, but the woman did not dare to speak against his misspoken moniker. “Right, right, o'course that's what I said, wasn't it?” he mumbled swiftly so as to allow the mishap fall into the sand and disappear. Through it all, Rosalyn kept her mouth shut and then swung around and departed the scene before he could squeeze another word in edgewise. He watched her go with a grimace and then turned back to the pale wolf at the edges of the pack. “Don't mind her... she's got her head screwed on too tight right now.”

“Welcome to me slice o' heaven. Ye've got a new smell on ye,” he said to Dune and scooted a short ways closer so that he could draw in the aroma and compare it to those he had passed along his way to the sea. There was only one wolf that came to mind as he drank in the heavy scent of Moonspear. “Do y'know Wraen?” the pirate inquired with a slight tilt of his head. There was a hopeful wag of his tail as he thought of the green-eyed woman and her stories. They'd chatted for a considerable amount of time before she had departed and Smokestep was quite fond of their interaction together.

The black wolf made a hasty exit when she was ignored not only by Dune but also by ol' Smokey the bear. It was still difficult to understand much of what Smokestep said, but Dune did his best not to totally gloss over everything that came out of the oddly-speaking wolf's mouth. The last sentence was, at least, ineligible, and Dune felt conflicted about the name that was spoken. Wraen had been a friend to him, but she had left Moonspear so soon after he had arrived, that he had not had the chance to let their relationship flower into whatever it could have been.

"Wraen gone," he replied, his voice dripping with disappointment. He still did not entirely understand why the lot of them had left. Moonspear had plenty of prey, so it was not to make room for Charon and Amekaze's litter (nor Rannoch and Liffey's). Dune had not dared to ask, for whatever the reason was, he had not been offered an explanation. He figured it was none of his business.

The short response was something of a small surprise to the pale corsair. He furrowed his brows and fixed Dune with a curious and confused expression. Smoke hoped that he was speaking of the correct wolf, and was certain that he was when Dune had responded, but he remembered her being so dedicated to her pack when they had first met. More than this, his companion seemed to have been disappointed in the leaving. Canting his head to the left some, Smokestep squinted a single eye at the quieter fellow and asked, “trouble in paradise?”

Finding that Dune wasn't an altogether hideous specimen, and Wraen had been a lovely woman, there was a chance they had a thing bubbling between them. More likely it was that Smokestep had a great deal of enjoyment when he was able to spark some exasperation from those around him. He enjoyed reading in to the things others would say, because there was always hope he could find something to latch to. The question was intended to go one of two ways; Dune could think he had been talking about a relationship with Wraen, or the state of their pack's political standings.

Dune wondered for a moment if he should have kept that intel to himself. Now it was out in the open, and he supposed there wasn't much use in that information for Smokestep anyway. Wraen had left, and so had others, but it had not weakened Moonspear. If anything, it had made the pack tighter and stronger with one another. Going through such a thing would do that. But trouble? Dune did not think it was that.

"Miss her," he replied with a shrug. He would not follow her. He had dedicated himself to Moonspear, and there was no reason for him to leave. Wraen was not some once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that he had to chase after. She had been his friend (was she still?) and he had enjoyed her company, but there were plenty of wolves who could hold those qualities.

"Black wolf," he said, changing the subject, "Reckless. Almost get killed by coyote." Dune's eyes shifted over Smokestep's back to where she had gone, and he wondered how "new" that information was. He had a feeling she was always so dumb, but one could never be sure. Maybe she had a sliver of intelligence hiding behind those eyes. Then again, maybe this info would get her watched more closely.

There was a soft sort of sadness that fell with the news of Wraen leaving their once shared pack. Smokestep was not fond of those who would abandon ship, but he had not thought the girl to be the type. He didn't think it was wise to pry much further than he had. Dune seemed to him a very cut and dry figure. The yearling knew it was best if he tried to keep himself from getting long-winded. It could be challenging for him not to be carried away.

The mention of Rosalyn shook him from his thoughts and he canted his head before turning to look at where she had disappeared to. It seemed that the pale fellow did not have a good encounter with her. The pirate was intrigued by it, but held his tongue. He may have felt irritation with the dark woman, but he knew that the crew was to be put before anything else. Smokestep eyed the other male with a crooked expression. “Coyote almost took ye both out?” he asked, hoping that there might be a tall tale attached to the remark. Considering the company, it was not likely.

Last one from me.

Dune nodded at Smokestep's question. "She attack coyote. It attack me. I kill it. She try steal." In the end, Dune had gotten the meal, but he would never have attempted to kill a coyote if it had been his choice. She had forced his hand paw, and she had paid the consequences for it. Dune wondered if she would continue to make dumb mistakes here with Smokestep, but that was not his to know unless she somehow ended up crossing Dune's path again. This pack was far enough out that Dune did not suspect they would cross paths often, if at all.

The Moonspear wolf, having divulged all he felt he needed to, did not see a reason to linger on Smokestep's doorstep any longer. He had only wanted to check out the pack to know who their neighbors were. That was done, and now he would head back home. "Good luck with pack," he said sincerely. Smokestep may not have been a friend (or anything close to it), but Dune held no ill will toward him. With a final wave of his tail, the white wolf turned and began to head toward the mountain that was his home.

The pirate listened intently as the other male provided a short recount of what had happened with a stray coyote. It was troubling to think that Rosalyn would put another life in danger on purpose, but he didn’t imagine this had been the case with the two of them; she was a pirate, just as he was. Of course, the pale Captain admired something so reckless, whether he wanted to admit it to his present company or not. He offered a snort of feigned disapproval once Dune had finished and shook his head with a baleful glance over his shoulder toward where Roz had departed. He would never mention it to her but felt he could provide the blue-eyed boy a bit of venting space for his frustrations. Smokestep knew that he was bound to answer similar calls in the future; his crew was a strange lot and bound for trouble.
 
Once he had ended his tale on the coyote threat, Dune seemed to believe that he was through with the present conversation and opted to leave. The corsair watched him with a half-frown. His ears caught the sincerity in the other male’s voice, so he did not pressure him to stay. Instead, he wagged his tail a bit in response and watched the wolf of few words turn to leave. “Best o’ luck, mate,” he called once Dune had reached an appropriate distance. With that, the pirate turned back to his bay and stalked inward in search of Rosalyn.