Stavanger Bay he finds wings

she confirms, chides him on where to keep his eyes ( not on the rocks but on the sea ), confirms his next question about the tides and the moon being linked and then launches into a lengthy explanation that he tries his best to follow. having never taken any sort of interest in well, anything sea related prior. even now, it was almost strictly out of necessity. he chose to settle by the sea and so he must take the painful steps to learn what he can to best lead his pack while they occupy this bay.

he braces himself against the water that splashes up the rocks and against him, pelting his face with saltwater that stings and leaves a tang in his mouth, burning his nose — only to blink rapidly and something — a blue-green crab, he assumes — scurries away. he is splashed, again, by the droplets she sends flying, following after her at a careful pace.

he survived the wrath of the sea once; barely. would he be so lucky the next time its dark waters welcomed him into their depths? unlikely. she hurried after her quarry but wintersbane has decided, rather fortuitously, that crabbing wasn't for him. neither, really, did he have a desire to actually eat one. maybe i'll just leave the crabbing to you, eh?