Stavanger Bay Den-mother Doe

@Larkspur, set directly after this thread and shortly after this one.

Atoll didn't feel great after her encounter with the bees, but she had what she needed to do the duty Skellige had assigned her, and the bee stings would soon fade. It might take longer to exorcise the poison from her body due to sheer volume, but all pains would eventually pass. For the time being, she was content to roll in surf and sand to rid herself of the worst of the stingers. The cold water helped to alleviate some of the pain while the gritty granules worked to relieve the itch that would become her constant companion over the next several days.

Feeling better already, Atoll retrieved the honey and chamomile that she'd found that day and went out in search of Sharkbait, looking first near her master's den.

"Sharkbait," she called, standing well-clear of the entrance to the man's bedroom - she knew better than to encroach on his territory without his explicit permission. "I have come with sweet and herb to lighten your heart and heal your body."

Someone said her name. Was it her name, though? In that state somewhere between sleeping and waking, she was actually pretty sure it wasn't. She was named after a bird, not a fish! But that thought faded into oblivion as the puppy groggily opened her eyes and roused properly. She blinked slowly several times, her big blue eyes momentarily refusing to focus on the face hovering in the den's doorway. Her brains felt like mush. She couldn't even recollect where she was for a moment or why she felt like this. Was she just having a hard time waking up, or...

Some memories trickled back, though Sharkbait still felt really out of it. Painstakingly, she sat up only to lean against the cool rock wall beside her. Her eyes went to half-mast as she peered at that vaguely familiar face still watching her. Her head hurt. Her throat hurt. Heck, everything hurt. And the words the stranger had spoken minutes ago now made no sense to her whatsoever. So the puppy just sat there like a useless, uncomprehending blob.

Atoll grew impatient when her call was not answered. The smell of the girl was clear upon the den, and she had not run through a bee hive so that she could be ignored by a child. Flicking her tail in irritation, she moved a bit closer and peered into the darkness.

"Girl!" she called, more firmly this time. "Come out. You need to be healed."

A bit grumpy now, Atoll sat back and scratched at one of her stings, ears swivelling toward any sound that might mean her young patient was emerging from her brother's den. "Naibi," she said sharply, though the soft, low timbre of her voice detracted from the force of the summons. Atoll had a mother's voice - her mother's voice, at least - and had never learned to speak to children without at least a little kindness.

A tremor of disquiet pulsed through her at the barked command. Sharkbait made to obey, moving slowly and mechanically. She emerged from the mouth of the unfamiliar den and blinked a little fearfully at the gray she-wolf. She remembered her from the other day but otherwise Sharkbait knew nothing about this woman or what she could possibly want with her.

But she was in no position to defy or disobey and she didn't want to do either of those things. With a swallowed whimper, she slid down onto her belly at the Atoll's feet, permitting her to do whatever needed to be done. The word "heal" bounced around in her brain, so at least Sharkbait figured she wouldn't do her any harm.

As soon as she was obeyed, all irritation faded from the Blackrock's eyes, and she set about snuffing over the cowering child. She did not seem to be hurt, aside from superficial scrapes and a few nasty bumps, but Atoll was still certain that her throat must be plaguing her. It was not something that needed to be healed, but she had compassion for the little body below her, and was not sorry that she'd gone to the trouble of obtaining honey for the little girl.

"Don't be afraid, Sharky," Atoll said with a gentle nudge. "You are safe - Skellige will protect you, and I will care for you."

Turning and nabbing the bundle she'd brought, Atoll set about dribbling the amber slime onto the chamomile, placing each leaf before her patient to be eaten. "Eat these, and chew slowly to soothe your throat. If they all go down without a fuss, I'll let you have just honey at the end."

The woman's touch was tender and careful. Her tone took on the same qualities. Sharkbait just remained still, making no reply to her reassurances. Her wide blue eyes flicked to the strange objects placed before her, wheat-colored ears tipping forward as she listened to the instructions.

She did as she was told, grimacing a little. When she had swallowed the last of the medicines, she tilted her head, blinked a few times and asked, "Are you my mommy?" Why else would this she-wolf tend to her so? If Skellige was her father, it made sense that she was Sharkbait's mother, especially considering the two of them had come to her on the beach and looked after her now.

The question, though partially expected by the little woman, still made her stomach twist. "No," she said at once, before her heart could swoop in a claim the child as her own. Sharkbait belonged to Skellige, and he'd denied her already the title of 'mother'. "No, not your mommy, but a den-mother. It means that I will care for you as a mother will, but that you were not born to me. The name of a den-mother is Amayo, not Mommy."

Looking sadly at the child - for the sight of her made Atoll's chest ache in longing - she decided that being Amayo meant more than just healing. Sharky was scared and alone, and her Amayo would comfort her, if there was any comfort to be had.

Lying down and nosing a bit of honeycomb to the girl, Amayo affected a calm, unconcerned facade. "Have more, if you wish. You are the daughter of Skellige - the lone princess in this land. I will do what pleases you, to the best of my ability."

The child's brow furrowed ever so slightly, somehow surprised that she wasn't Sharkbait's mother after all. Who was her mommy then? She knew there was always a mother and father. Perhaps when she was feeling better, she would ask Skellige. In the meantime, Sharkbait accepted Amayo's introduction and explanation of her role as den mother in weary silence.

She twitched when Amayo laid down beside her but didn't make a move otherwise. Her nose wriggled at the honeycomb but she didn't partake, her stomach still turning somewhat from the remedies she had just swallowed. She hoped she wasn't being rude when she shook her head. It stilled again when Amayo informed her that Sharkbait was a princess by merit of Skellige's kingly station.

Despite her physical, mention and emotional fatigue, Sharkbait managed a quiet, "Okay." Something about the princess title caused a little warmth to flicker in her heart, though she could not have said why.

Amayo sighed as she looked upon the stricken child. The lethargy and confusion that she'd sensed in the girl on the beach had not left her, and Amayo was beginning to wonder if it ever would. She feared for her master, if it was so. For when her own life had not seemed worth living, she'd fled from her home and all that she knew.

Amayo took pity on the child, but Atoll sought to serve her master.

"When you have enough for today," she said gently, splitting the difference between the two duties - not completely at war, but certainly tense with each other - "you will have all you ever need. Do you know what that means, Sharky?"

She shifted herself near the girl and stretched out her neck to offer her a soft embrace. "It means that as long as you can get through right now, you can get through anything. And the beauty of life is that nothing ever stays the same. This means that joy is often brief, but also that all pain and sadness will pass," Amayo explained, warming up to the subject. "We just have to get through the moment, ten seconds at a time. Do you think you can do that?"

Sharkbait did not react much when touched or questioned, not because she was disobedient (far from it) but simply because her lethargy and confusion made everything fairly difficult. She sort of wanted to go back to sleep, yet she had a feeling Amayo would find it rude. So she kept her eyes open, though they felt dry and grainy, and even did her best to listen to the she-wolf's platitudes.

Amayo's point scarcely processed in her overtired brain but Sharkbait stashed it away for future contemplation. "Yes," she replied simply, since Amayo hadn't asked much of her. Truly, she didn't have much choice but to live in the present. Her past was a blurry shadow and her future was equally indecipherable.

Dense as the shewolf was, not even Amayo could miss the glassy look of uncomprehension in the girl's eyes. With a sigh of defeat, she simply set about cleaning the grit and grime that often accumulated daily on a wolf's fur when one stayed near the sea. It was a fact of life that she had learned to live with, but problem not one that the younger wolf had yet come to terms with. Perhaps this added to the girl's woes, and perhaps she did not even notice them. It was hard for Amayo to tell - but neither was there much else she felt she could do for Sharkbait.

Tomorrow will be kinder, she thought to herself, attempting to clean the prickly eye-boogies from the smaller wolf's face. We just have to keep believing that.

The trouble was, Amayo could only believe it for herself. Sharkbait would have to come by the knowledge on her own, somehow.