Stavanger Bay Starting Over Anew

Lotte and Arturo had spent the majority of her heat cycle working actively to conceive; and now that the feverish urgency had ebbed from her, she busied herself with other things: namely, eating copiously, leaving her mark at Teaghlaigh’s borders, and fortifying her endurance through various training exercises. One of these was running on the beach north of the bay — a task she loathed, given her aversion to sand — and it was here that she ran into the nightscape-hued female whose bright blue eyes had seemed to glow. “Rakeet, comrade,” she said, a little breathless from her run. Smiling warmly, “I remember you — you brought the message about the bluefish,” she murmured with a friendly chuff, her argent eyes twinkling. There was sadness in her expression, too — sadness for Donnelaith, for the lost witch queen, for the disappearance of all of this wolf’s leaders. “I am sorry for your losses,” she intoned sincerely. “We never shared names the first time we met; I am Lotte Ansbjørn Fearghal. I moved to Teaghlaigh after the fires.”