Totoka River 그 안에 숨겨진 비밀을 알게된 것 같아

Comprehension flashed within the intelligent mahogany eyes of Coelacanth’s present companion, and in its wake swelled shadows of remorse and shame. It was not the inkdark girl’s intention to torment the proud creature so — hastily she shook her head, droplets of river water springing from the tufted tips of her ears, as an expression next door to horror crossed her delicate features. Appealingly the tip of her feathered tail sketched a horizontal set of scribbles, beating a fluttering tattoo against the inner aspect of her hocks, perhaps a physical manifestation of her longing to blur the lines of his apology as they hung hollowly in the air.

“Shh,” she breathed — a sound meant to comfort, to soothe — one of the few noises she was capable of. All was well. Her bright cerulean eyes held no bitterness or malice in their turquoise-touched depths — only a timorous contentment, for he was not cross with her anymore, and an abiding anxiousness that he not fret on her behalf. She longed to go to him, to bump her sleek muzzle against his shoulder in a gesture of reassurance, but she remained where she stood, gunshy and indecisive — and a modicum wiser about his personal boundaries.

It was Seelie’s turn to be confused as the charcoal patterned wolf named her a spirit of the sea and offered his tongue — a strange turn of phrase, perhaps, or did he truly mean it in the literal sense? She wondered, turning the idea around in her mind, tilting her finely-sculpted head first to the left, then the right. She could make neither heads nor tails of his offer, and poked out her tongue as proof that she had her own — faulty and clumsy though it was.

The atramentous ingénue could find no way to tell him plainly that she was a halfbreed — only a halfbreed, a quantity that could not cleanly be measured against either side of her muddied pedigree. How could she make him see? Turning her attention toward the horizon as the first tentative slivers of light began to illuminate the dawn sky, she strode a few paces forward — toward the mirror-like deltas that stood between her favored bathing pool and the sea she loved. She could not make him understand what she was or who she was without the benefit of words, but perhaps that did not matter — so long as he was not displeased.

A soft, toneless whisper of sound spilled from her lips as she quirked her muzzle toward the rising sun in blithe invitation. She “barked” — dancing a quick sideward step. Already the fissures of light dancing across the glassy expanse were a glory to behold, and she did not want to miss the sunrise.