The Sentinels see no evil, speak no evil

Lotte, oblivious to the male’s attraction to her, believed that submission alone had won her the gentle warmth that replaced the hard, suspicious glint of his fiery eyes. She basked in it, her coal-tipped tail eagerly waving behind her with a rhythmic sashaying of her hips. At the mention of Blackrock Depths — the origin of the summons — her black-masked face turned automatically toward the sea, then refocused with new seriousness upon Constantine’s troubled visage. “Have they offered threat to this sanctuary, herra?” she asked somberly, straightening before him to present herself as she would to a commanding general. “I planned to answer the call — I liked the voice of the one who issued it.” Lotte was ofttimes a capricious creature, driven by her whims, but she would forego her pleasure if it meant proving her worth to her superiors. “If you have need of information, I will glean what I can.” She had no way of knowing that she would return with a cub instead of useful information, and with her loyalties being sorely tested thanks to a certain black-masked coywolf and odd-eared witch doctor.