Ravensblood Forest Death and all her friends

I am not sure who is going to nab her, but please do not maim her. ;-; I am very attached to my pretty little inkdog.

Although Dakarai had never called for Coelacanth before, she knew his voice — and while she could not pinpoint the cause of his distress, she had no reason to doubt its authenticity. It was a guileless, childless innocent who burst upon the scene, salt and sand entangled in the aphotic silk of her fur, Neptune eyes made wide and anxious by the throng upon which she intruded. Tufted ears swept forward upon her skull in utter bewilderment as she looked from face to unfamiliar face, the black-masked Ceannasach and Banríon as foreign to her as the dark, sneering wolves from the faraway wood. Seelie did not know this Lotte, who did not acknowledge her in the slightest — she had easily forgotten this Arturo, who did not smile fondly upon his ocher-eyed daughter. A tremulous whisper-whine weighed heavy upon the atramentous ingénue’s tongue as she made herself small, her tiny, gamine body moving with incredible slowness as she inched toward Dakarai on tenterhooks. The saline of his tears worried her immeasurably and she turned immediately toward Olive’s birthing bed, fearing the worst — but she dropped like a stone at Lotte’s swift correction.

The smoke-and-shadow rogue wrinkled her muzzle, fangs flashing as she cut a sharp, guttural snarl. “You cannot go to Olive now,” she said, her tone quiet and deceptively mild, though it brooked no argument.

Quailing, Seelie dipped lower still, bright cerulean eyes flashing with the eloquent, poignant hurt of a kicked cur. Caracal-like ears folded demurely as she curled in on herself, an obsidian and cobalt ring of sorrow, and glanced uneasily from one lead bitch to the other with growing trepidation. Face to face this way, it was impossible for the sheepdog to discern who was more dangerous — but she did not have long to wait.