Firestone Hot Springs And it's keeping me up at night, and it's keeping me up, oh

“Oi, I’ll say!”
 
The young pirate beamed at her with all the humility of a prize show dog. It had been months since he’d last seen the mountain-dweller. Her scents had changed, but he would have recognized the lass anywhere. Smokestep had been fond of the stories they had shared.
 
Wraen offered a humorous quip about him trekking so far from the coast. He chuckled at it, but the truth was that he felt the distance in every step and it had wrought a particular kind of madness in the Captain. He was never meant to have dwelled far from the touch of the saline waters. “Yer not wrong ‘bout them mermaids,” Smokestep offered in something of a sober tone. He felt as though he had taken to surrounding himself with fierce women, and while they made for the best pirates, he did not always compliment their temperament.
 
“Wot have ye been up to, lass? Rulin’ yer mountain wit an iron paw, eh?”