Stavanger Bay I took his hand, we stood back, and watched the banks turn red.

her gaze seemed to sharpen, knifing through the ceto. immediately on guard, marvelling at how she had turned to stone before him, velen nodded. "aye. that's my uncle." how had she known smokestep? if velen had heard of ironsea, he did not remember. so who was this cold woman who had turned up near stormrift asking about a relative?
silently he waited for her rejoinder, chestnut eyes growing cool, for he did not like the situation. and while he did not feel threatened, velen was not warm to outsiders, another trait of the family that had bred him.