Stavanger Bay under the waves and the earth of an age

Emaleth had walked here in her youth, following the large but softened craters her father's paws had left behind. She had leapt with tiny feet to match his strides, Deirdre at her side and joining in the game, until they reached the shoreline and their lesson would begin. It had not been Donnelaith's claim, but some piece of it belonged to Emaleth and her sister, and she rued that she could not freely visit a place so strongly tied to her memories of Lasher. She would honor the alliance, out of respect and trust in Deirdre's judgment, but she did not have to like it. Indeed, she already hated the leader of this place— and should they meet, she was sure that she would find more reason to!

It was not long she had to wait, as she had expected— her fur offered no camouflage against the sands. As the stranger approached, she measured him with eyes of ocean and forest, for she was made from both! But for the male's own eyes, he might have been her father— dark and swarthy— though Taltos did not carry the harshness of this man's gaze, a mahogany that reminded her of blood and malice.

"I am a Witch of the Wood," she told him smoothly, confidence— bolstered by spite— exuding in her stature and manner, "daughter of the Druid known as Lasher, and twin of Deirdre." If the two packs were truly allies, this statement would carry some meaning, though the littermates had yet to inherit their father's claim. "She has told me of the Depths, but I wish to understand our new neighbors for myself."

He was stoic and of few words, though Emaleth could not determine if this was true of all his interactions or simply theirs, now— and so their conversation did not stray far beneath the surface. Frustrated, for the dark witch did not favor interactions that were unfruitful, she politely dismissed herself as soon as the opportunity arose.