Totoka River Help me do it myself

I am so sorry for taking so long, Marie!

A low, contented purr spilled from Coelacanth’s slim jaws, humming rhythmically in her useless throat as Chusi settled trustingly between her slender forelegs. She smoothed a tender lick across the girl’s forehead, careful not to go against the grain and literally ruffle her fur. What the atramentous halfbreed felt was not the desire to mother or possess the foundling, but a sheepdog’s innate need to protect the weak — and she did not trust the scarred and battle-hardened male who crouched before her. She watched warily as he backed away, relaxing minutely as he uttered a garbled apology — his voice was splendid, like spiced honey to her waiting ears, and its deep bass timbre enticed her; but it was the stutter that endeared him to her. It made him seem young and awkward — a bumpkin in a warrior’s livery. Still she stood, her delicate features etched in lines of concern and indecision.

“I w-w-would take you both b-back with me, for m-m-my Atoll can better hear Her voice.”

Atoll.

“Y-You are s-strong, b-but She can m-m-make you s-stronger.”

Coelacanth mistook the pronoun Szymon had intended to indicate the Sea as being meant for the odd-eared siren of Tara, and it was this that decided her. Of course, Atoll would strengthen and care for this tiny creature in ways that Seelie never could. It would do her well to be part of a pack, even if the pack in question was brutal and unforgiving. Coelacanth did not judge or condemn the warhounds of the bay — she merely placed them on a pedestal of ferocity and ruthlessness given their severity in dealing with unwanted visitors, made evident by the swaths of wolf blood at their borders. Dipping her streamlined muzzle to gently nuzzle at the bulb of one of Chusi’s tender ears, Coelacanth uttered a soft, toneless whine of inquiry. She nodded at Chusi’s question, having full faith now in the wolf who smelled so strongly of Atoll and uttered her name.