Stavanger Bay Off the cliff she tumbled

Feeling rather posessive of the little canine already, but also knowing that this was a mother of her species, Atoll made herself availible to be leaned against as she led the weakened creature toward the West Cliffs, where the water of Donnelaith fell into a clear, rippling pool below. Just a few feet away from the central pool was a small puddle filled by a trickling flow that ran down the face of the rock rather than falling from it. There, Atoll had been soaking the slippery elm bark for Sharkbait to chew. She would have to remember to put some in later, but for now, her coyote could have what had been meant for Sharky.

"This is cool and fresh, and the bark will keep your throat moist while it heals," Atoll said gently, folding herself up nearby and watching her coyote almost greedily. The expression was offset by the compassion and admiration she felt for the smaller creature. Not only was she of the species that'd birthed her own - she had also survived the ocean's wrath, just as Atoll had in her early days on the coast.

"I am Atoll," she said to the woman, remembering her manners. "What will I call you?"