Blackwater Islands 2+2=5 (The Lukewarm)

As dusk fell away to dark, and the Moon rose somewhere behind a thick cover of clouds, Akantha emerged from the Whelping Cove. She'd spent the day preparing the caverns for future use—clearing away debris, digging out hovels, and scavenging what little she could to make a comfortable nest that the expecting mother of the time could use. However, it lacked the luxury she remembered from Themiscrya; very few shells lined the threshold, and the surfaces were far too smooth to pile glittering stones upon. She wanted nothing but to provide the best for her coven, but her attempts felt pitiful indeed.

So under the cover of night she ascended the winding path and struck out towards the higher reaches of the northern cliffs in search of repose. Kalika always did well to reassure her that she was doing a fine job, but it wasn't honeyed words she desired to sooth her irrational hurts. But she wanted something, anything, to take her mind off her own troubles. It didn't take her sensitive nose long to discover a familiar scent upon the wind, and she changed course to investigate. 

The Matriarch discovered her favored Drudge lying still upon the cliffs and staring off into the inky black. As she drew near, her keen eyes focused enough to take in the strained planes of his face. She perked her ears and paused, wondering if, perhaps, she should leave him to his thoughts. But her instinctive urge to protect her domain, him included, pushed her to reveal herself. Akantha rumbled softly as she approached, though her expression was fixedly neutral and her body language only passively dominant.