The Sentinels When the tequila runs out

Sharkbait considered the question a moment before nodding subtly. The Leviathan and his attentive Atoll did look after her well enough, even if there was always a sense of something amiss. She believed they were who they said they were—her father and den mother—but there was a disconnect. With her broken mind, she couldn't possibly fathom the depth and breadth of their deceit, nor even really begin to comprehend it. She only sensed something wasn't right, though it went no further than that.

When asked if she had been threatened, Sharkbait's whole body stilled. "They wanted me to... to smear the blood all over myself, like they did," she explained after drawing in a steadying breath, her golden furs prickling automatically when a bolt of lightning split the sky, visible even in their makeshift shelter. The rain arrived simultaneously, with a gusty whoosh, a breeze swirling into the hollow tree and tousling her pelt even more. "I ran away," she added softly, finally leaning away from Deirdre again.

She peered into that pretty, enchanting face as Deirdre described her intentions. The sense of comradeship, inexplicable familiarity and lack of tension made Sharkbait trust her, even if she might as well have been speaking in a foreign tongue. "Okay," she breathed, heart skipping a beat at the notion of being able to remember herself. Her companion spoke with a conviction that warmed her blood and made her feel hopeful for the first time in recent memory.