Stavanger Bay her early leaf's a flower

The Wickedness delivered her faithfully to the sandy shores, and though Doe aided her with each stroke of her paws, she still got the feeling that it was all the work of the waves that returned her to her family. With a murmured prayer of thanks and supplication, Doe's thin paws finally touched sand, and she hardly stumbled as she took her weight back from the buoyant surf and followed after her daughter.

When Szymon took hold of her scruff, Doe came from behind and nudged their girl's bottom gently, lovingly from the water, her thin, wet tail lashing like a whip and sending water droplets flying all around them. Quill had survivied the Drop, had joined the family completely. It was a moment of great joy...

Until it was not.

Doe did not hear the words - only the challenge in her lover's voice. At other times, she was willing to listen to him, to allow him to lead her. He was her mate, and though she held the title of Atoll, Szymon still had the right to rule her. Despite this, the man had never raised his voice to her, had never spoken harshly in her presence, had been content to allow her to take the lead, offering his strength for her wills. Doe loved him for it, and she loved him even with a snarl twisting so angrily across his maw. But she would not be spoken to like this; would not be condemned for her actions.

The woman narrowed her eyes and stalked toward her salt-colored love, teeth bared in a silent snarl. Though she was small, there was a glimmer of menace about her that she'd inherited from Hind. 

Doe did not deign to answer the question he spat. She advanced silently, waiting, her message clear without words: I dare.