Stavanger Bay the fountainhead

@Emaleth. Set near the border? I'm not certain what the border is but she's prob close enough. if possible.

The sun is settling into the ocean for the night as Qilaq whimpers, tucked away in the back of the den. She'd returned early in the afternoon to rest in the empty den, sleeping for a few hours that has begun to drag out into the later moments of the evening. It is fitful, at best, and one sudden jerk of her legs sends her upright and panicked. She takes a few, long and hard breaths to regain some of her senses back to deescalate and retire her mind.

Slowly, she picks herself up and stretches out her body with a long yawn. Amayo nor Appeh are back yet, not having seen them since early that morning, but she knows she can't linger around in the den when her heart is beating a mile a minute. She shed the den quickly, peering up at the darkening gradient sky. Stars begin to peek through the brighter shakes while the sun makes its last drop into the waters for another day and she picks up an even trot.

At first, she doesn't know where she's going, but she lets her legs lead her to a group of large rocks upon their shore. They are low and flat enough that make it easy to rise on, finding the perfect one in the middle to rest and look out across the sky expanding above her.

Although her den was in the heart of the forest, Emaleth had begun to spend much of her time patrolling the border they shared with the wolves of the Depths. She would respect the alliance put into place by her sister, but she struggled to fully trust their neighbors. They were too close for comfort, too harsh— if Skellige's mind changed, and Blackrock fell upon Donnelaith, the forest wolves would be easily taken. Like Deirdre, she was a pacifist— but Emaleth had more in common with Aria and Constantine than she knew. If it would not be an insult to her sister's command, the dark witch might have encouraged their followers to train amongst themselves; a fail safe. But she could not, and so did her best to make peace by pacing the border, ever vigilant, ever watching.

Tomorrow night was Samhain, and Emaleth would lead the ritual to honor the ancestors of the forest wolves. She was awake, now, her nerves alight— and so she worked to dissipate her anxiety by walking the length of The Sentinels' vanguard of trees. It was there, in the failing light, that she watched a figure make its way to the shore. She did not know what compelled her to leave the safety of the forest, but she did, leaving a long trail of paw prints in the sand behind her. When she felt she could go no further without inciting an attack for trespassing, she paused and hailed the other with a gentle whuff, her posture one of neutrality— she came in peace.

It is easy for Qilaq to become lost. There is too much for her to see all at once and as she breaks down each quadrant, wishing for information Amayo promised, she can’t help but allow herself the freedom. Sometimes she will attempt to count until she loses the strain or reaches her limit, but either way she finds something new and just as exciting to focus on. What information is out there for her, while still unknown, creates a new and exciting world in her mind and so when another approaches, it is the chuff that startles her back to reality.

Qilaq’s heart lodges into her throat and she flips herself back upright. The rock she has chosen to lay is big enough that she does not fall off to one side but it takes a long moment for her to find the source and refocus her attention on someone so close. She blinks several times and shifts, finding a wetness within her fur and beneath her, but the brine and salt of the air hopefully masks it in distance. The wolf before her is not familiar and her scent doesn’t exactly register, but her ears fold back against her head and she slowly slinks down to the sandy ground as if she’d been caught doing something she isn’t supposed to be.