Blackwater Islands sunset on a warm summer's eve

Though their claim was now official, Akantha still had much to do. The last 48 hours or so had been spent in solitude, contemplating and brainstorming while basking in the gentle embrace of the Sea. There were rites to perform, and rituals in need of her Voice, but she knew not where to even begin. Over half of their number were not from Themiscrya, so they did not have knowledge of how their culture dictated when, where, and how. They were still gliding along in her wake, enjoying the solitude and comforts the pack life brought.

That would soon change.

A call broke through the soft hush of the waves that rolled up the beach, and she turned to see Kalika in pursuit. Her heart warmed but she was conflicted—she remembered how strong her scent was upon Gabe's pelt, and how he'd inquired about love and affection. Was she tricking him into thinking he had a chance at a family? Akantha wanted to believe the contrary—that Kalika was loyal to their ways and to her, but suspicious nature did not allow the matter to rest at ease. 

"Kalika." She called, turning so that the full length of her frame was exposed to the younger siren. One ear flicked back as uncertainty plagued her thoughts and her hazel gaze raked the other's face in search of an answer she wasn't likely to find.