Stavanger Bay he finds wings

wintersbane retains his skepticism about how 'good' crabs are; mostly because he cannot imagine them having much meat to them; but keeps reminding himself not to outright scoff that knowing how to hunt them will be useful. desperation was a powerful motivator and, as previously considered, crabs might not do much to sate him, a pup could probably make a quick and easy snack out of them.

his attentions does not stray from moor as she explains the waves, making a mental note that there are seven types of waves. do they follow the pattern of small to large? he asks, not sure how one could deduce if it was truly safe, especially if they were blindsided by one of the large waves. already, the rocks are slick with saltwater and the spray rises over the rocks the tides crash against.

he keeps his steps slow, even; concentrating on his footing. and the tides ...aren't they connected to the sun and the moon? he inquires, thinking that he heard that once somewhere.