Blackwater Islands sleeping with the moon and the stars

Though Akantha was aware her moods were a fickle thing, she made no effort to control the reactions she had as a result. Restrain, yes, but she refused to completely snuff out her whims in favor of being politically correct. She was a paragon of the Sea; a violent, unpredictable entity that Akantha had emulated since birth. It was the waves themselves she trod through as they roared up the shore, swirling about her ankles, before retreating into the depths again. Kalika, as expected, followed.

The Matriarch led them northward but gave no indication of her destination. Her ear splayed towards the young advisor, but her face remained a mask of stoicism. "Neither of you are ready, in my opinion, but I don't have a choice." She rumbled. "The Mothers have requested that the Rites take place soon, before the warm season." Akantha lashed her tail to vent a bit of steam and it collided with Kalika's own rump. She made no mention of it, but did check the pale woman's reaction with a stolen glance. 

Upon reaching the familiar tributary, Akantha abruptly turned and began following the stream inland. She is silent for a few long minutes, allowing Kalika the room to either speak or contemplate.