Stavanger Bay dispersal

Glassy-eyed, Moorhen pretended not to see Doe's Shadow. The Shadow belonged to the Sea Queen, just like everything else in the girl's short life. She was often snapped at for 'taking' things from the other children, and only slightly less often, for nothing at all. Though she bore no marks upon her flesh, deep left by Doe's teeth criss-crossed over the youth's psyche. I am a seashell, she thought. Seashells do not need to eat or be warm. They do not like to chew bones. They do not need to be punished.

Glassy-eyed, Moorhen pretended not to see Doe's Shadow - but she did see her, and hear her airy whines. Inwardly, she was intrigued by the Shadow's strange behavior. The wolf in her urged Moorhen to investigate, but she was a seashell. Seashells didn't do anything.

Glassy-eyed, Moorhen pretended not to see Doe's Shadow. And truly, she did not comprehend the please love me writ all over the sheepdog's face. Of course she didn't. They were speaking different languages, and Moorhen? She was saying the same thing.