Stavanger Bay when it’s just you and me and the english channel

The elation of seeing Atoll again eclipsed all things. Coelacanth whined impatiently, an airy, toneless whisper of sound, her catlike forepaws dancing and shifting as her hindquarters sashayed and shimmied. Her torso wriggled like an eel, spilling into the wild lashing of her ink-feathered tail as she “barked” — she tossed her finely-sculpted head and spun a few circles, reluctant to cross into claimed territory without explicit permission — and when the odd-eared siren of Tara was finally within touching range, Seelie swarmed over her with a flurry of nibbles and licks, her tapered nose finding the base of her friend’s upright ear to place a soft kiss there. The scent of the older female’s waning heat yet lingered, and as the reunited friends rose and untangled themselves from one another, Atoll’s Shadow cast a perceptive glance from Atoll to Szymon and back again. The sheepdog cross’ cheeks grew warm as she curled her waiflike frame into a demure sit, regarding Atoll’s unease with slightly more understanding than her mate, if only due to that telltale scent.

Turning to Chusi, Coelacanth hesitated only briefly before decisively shaking her head — the innocent question was not one that could be answered simply. “Shadow” was Atoll’s name for the little Groenendael, but it was not her first name. She had learned to answer to others out of necessity, as had Amoxtli and their mother. The woman in the cabin had been especially unoriginal: Selkie had been “Girl”, Seelie had been “Little Girl”, and Amoxtli had been “Son”. In this way, Seelie hoped Chusi would continue to call her by the name she had chosen — she wasn’t fond of repeats. There was no way for her to convey this, though, aside from being stubborn about what she chose to answer to — and she would never do that to this small, ochre-eyed foundling. Bending her head, Seelie nibbled lightly at Chusi’s nape in an attempt to reassure her.