Blackwater Islands sleeping with the moon and the stars

Akantha, too, found herself in awe of the vibrant heavenly display that the Mothers put on for them tonight. She lay on the shore with her lower half comfortably submerged in the chilly water and the upper propped up by her elbows as the savage cut of her muzzle drifted to and fro to observe every inch of the star-smattered sky. Slowly, somehow, the Matriarch was feeling more at ease with the way the Nereides were settling in. The newcomers were showing great promise, and the Themiscryan pilgrims hadn't done much to warrant any concern. All in all, she was pleased. Not happy, because Akantha was rarely anything but neutral, but the overwhelming stress of the last few months was all but fading into the history books.

The sound of sand underfoot alerted her to an approaching figure, and she wasn't surprised to see Kalika. It wasn't often anyone but her had the boldness or the urgency to bother her this late at night, but Kalika was both brave and bold—traits Akantha respected. However, she still harbored some unease about how their previous conversation was handled, mostly from her own contribution. The trust required of her was a difficult pill to swallow when so much of her life was lie, after lie, after lie.

She offered the other woman a slow nod and motioned to her to join.