The worgen made an odd sound, something between a growl and a snort as he paused his drawing.<br/><br/>"Well, 'ere<i>is</i>something else. I've seen it when wanderin' th' shallows round th' island, lookin' faer daggermaw schools." He tapped the side of his lower jaw with the flat of his pencil.<br/><br/>"Round th' northeast part o' th' island, 'ere's a spot where th' woods butt righ' up against th' cliff. Even closer 'an 'ere," he began. "There's always, an' I mean<i>always </i>this...smoke. But, it's nae like regular smoke, though." He frowned, making that sound again.<br/><br/>"'t's more like black fog. An' it doesnae<i>move</i>, doesn' thin out. Jes' kin' of...hangs there, billowin' an' flowin' on a wwind tha's not always there..." Tery turned and gave her a smile. "Per'aps tha's th' fog they're talkin' about. I ain' about tae go<i>lookin'</i>, though." He returned to his sketching, looking up at her as he spoke between furious scribbles.<br/><br/>"Tae be fair, I reckon th' only folk who know this isle proper are the carnies. An' they ain' talkin'." A rather wolfish grin lit his features a moment. "Even when plied with my specific interrogation methods." He chuckled softly, shaking his head.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>