Sawtooth Spire glazed eyes, empty hearts

Tonravik watched as he ducked beneath the water. Her bulk was too much to shuffle away with any measure of swiftness, and besides that, she had never been the sort to run away. She moved toward him, and beneath the waters she felt his fangs upon her feet in a matter that did not promise pain. Tonravik looked at the red fish and watched as he moved away. What could she do to come back at him? He was soaked to the bone; only she was vulnerable to water, now. 

He capitalized on this as he spewed it at her, and she wrinkled her muzzle. Tonravik herself moved somewhat deeper, squatting to soak herself entirely before lurching toward him. He was not so far as before, but far enough to escape her "wrath" if he so desired to. Tonravik again sought to wrap her forelegs around him and capture him there, to gnaw at whatever was closest to her with a roughness that she could not administer to their cubs, and a unique sort of affection meant solely for him. It was her own brand, but by now, he would know it well.