Stavanger Bay and the fire with all the strength it hath

The Blackrock beta quirked her ears as the strange word fell from her girl's lips. Quil. It was not a proper name, but Doe was content to leave it be - at least for the moment. Her body felt as heavy as her girl's, and she allowed her head to rest upon her paws for several long minutes, simply catching her breath and basking in the familiar scent of home. It was good to be back, and something of a relief to have her identity back, however little she had of it. To be Doe or Atoll was still to be, but she felt that Atoll was a more up-to-date version of herself.

That in mind, she assumed the proper identity and pushed herself to her paws, arching her back and calling up her last meal for her girl. A pile of partially-digested raccoon rose out of Atoll's stomach and emptied itself onto the sandy floor of her den, the edges of the sludgy pool touching her precious fawnskin. It did not matter to the woman - gifts were meant to be used, and used until they were used up. The rug would be no different, although she cherished it while it lasted.

"Rouse yourself, Quil," she said firmly, stepping back and sweeping her eyes over the den. With a pleased swish of her tail - for there were no poisons within reach of her little teeth - Atoll turned and exited the den, heading for the nearest cache. Szymon, as always, had stocked this one not only with plenty of his salty seafare, but also with her preffered warm-blood cuisine. This time, though, Atoll selected a long, pink-fleshed creature. The scales were still moist and slimey, just the way Atoll liked it, and the salt would help to rejuvenate her, so long as she took care to drink water with it.

The Falls of Donnelaith were happy to quench her thirst, and she took the time to dip her nose in honey before returning to check on her young charge.