Ankyra Sound hold our skin over the light to hold the heat

Forward dated a bit <3 for @Noctaryn

All companionship forsaken, Marina faced each grey day alone. Old habit, perhaps, or some sharper tang of salt in the blood had drawn her to the seaside. It was no idyll she'd chosen, this stark cold strand of shoreline, but the ocean commanded its own wild beauty against the drab beach. She grew fond of the place, though the winds of fate threatened each day to carry her elsewhere.

Her belly had swelled only enough to take her own notice. If she kept to the waters, washing her own scent away in the sea as often as she could, she could almost hide it from the eyes of others. Never from herself.

Survival was nearly a secondary goal in the constancy of her fishing and hunting efforts; this served most usefully as a distraction. Marina emerged from shallow waters clutching a fish, the second she'd caught that morning, and moved into the faint shadows of the treeline to rest and enjoy her meal. The fish still twitched in her jaws as she walked, now and then thrashing with a spurt of false hope. When she passed beneath the trees she dropped it.

Marina reclined a few feet away, one ear swiveling toward where the fish renewed its dying struggle. Otherwise she ignored the little spectacle. She bent to groom the saltwater from her fur.

A few days among the pack of the Vale, Noctaryn had grown restless, craving space once more. Their kindness and warm welcome had not gone unappreciated—he would always be grateful for their generosity. His body was healed, his muscles no longer ached, and each step came without pain. That meant one thing: he could travel again. And travel he would.

He wandered through the woods, across the plains, and over the mountains, seeking solitude. Today, his path led him to the ocean. There was no destination, no true purpose to his steps—only the desire to understand this new world and all it held. He had known only humans, chains, cold hard ground, pebble-like food and water poured into noisy metal bowls. Freedom had never been a concept before. Now that he had it, he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

But as the scent of earth and trees faded, replaced by brine and salt, and the wind wove gently through his fur, he wondered—was this what freedom felt like?

The question lingered in his mind, unanswered, until movement pulled him from his thoughts. A fish—on land? It flailed weakly, its energy nearly spent. How had it ended up so far from the water? The answer revealed itself soon enough. Just beyond the struggling creature, subtle movement caught his eye—a wolf, soaked and glistening with seawater, meticulously grooming herself dry.

His steps halted, curiosity sparking. He lifted his nose, inhaling the sharp brine of the sea, laced with something… floral? The scent was unfamiliar, yet pleasant, and he regretted his lack of knowledge about such things. Perhaps, in time, he would learn its name.

Expression unreadable, he stood still, watching. But his silver eyes held a quiet intrigue as they studied her—small, delicate, her coat a blend of greys and whites. How could something so small challenge the vast ocean? Or was she not battling it at all? Was she born of it, shaped by its tides?

The thought amused him, and a quiet chuckle escaped his lips.

Footsteps in the sand; Marina's ears twitched, but she didn't look up to greet the man, nor did she stiffen with fear though she felt its spark in her gut. What could he take from her that had not already been taken? Yet the quiet sound of his mirth drew her gaze after a moment. The dark ocean eyes were guarded, critical.

Something funny? Marina questioned in a bristling voice, watching him as the hawk watches the fox, knowing that either might be a match for the other. Still, she remained where she was. In these late days of pregnancy, any injury might be the end of herself and her child. That stayed her, though she often questioned that sense of preservation; the point of it all.

Her gaze locked onto him with such intensity that his smile faltered, and he instinctively looked away. The last thing he wanted was for her to fear him—he was no brute, least of all toward women. And yet, the sharp edge in her voice made it painfully clear that his presence unsettled her...and he had possibly offended her.

“Not at all, the fault is mine—I was just caught up in a silly thought,” he admitted, offering a slight shrug. “Wolves made from the ocean. I imagine all that tumbling through the waves would leave them terribly dizzy.” He huffed a quiet laugh, though the humor felt thinner spoken aloud than it had in his mind.

His eyes raked over her, careful to not linger too long in any areas, checking for any injuries. She appeared well, nothing apparently visible, but fur hides minor injuries well. He would know, his own neck itching with old memories.

“Are you well? I haven’t scented others around; are you alone?” He sat back on his haunches, regarding her softly as he awaited her reply.

Wolves made from the ocean. Marina smiled at that, if only faintly. My ancestors were, if the stories can be believed. Maybe that's why their children always seem to lose their way - all that tumbling through the waves. Mere idle fancy, yet it brought some small measure of comfort. Such was the way of their people, her mother had always said: to blame the ancestors, times long past, histories so ancient they'd become fanciful stories. Marina had never seen the appeal — until suddenly she did.

I'm alone, yes - alone as I can be in this state, and for all that, as well as I can be. But I won't be alone for long, Marina found her gaze drawn briefly to the subtle swell of her flank. Just for a heartbeat. Her eyes were a little lighter when they returned to the stranger. My child will be born soon.

Noctaryn caught the brief glance toward her belly, the gentle swell of it more pronounced now. She was with child, much like Viskani—though he wasn’t sure how far along she was. There had been mention of it being soon, but how soon?

And she was alone.

How unfortunate. His thoughts drifted to Viskani—she had a family, a pack to support her. This young female had no such comfort; at least, he could detect no lingering scents of others on her. It was a cruel thing, to bear such a burden without a village. Would Viskani allow another into the Vale, especially one carrying life within her? More mouths to feed meant greater strain, and Noctaryn had no knowledge of the pack’s resources or whether they could sustain more than they already had.

“I am… sorry you are alone,” he said at last, his voice soft. “I’m Noctaryn—if you want, or need, company, I’d be happy to stay for a while. I’m a stranger, of course, but I know what it is to be alone. I wouldn’t wish that on you.”

He dipped his head slightly, a small, reassuring smile forming as his silver eyes met hers again.