Fox's Glade Lost our gravity, now we're weightless

It was, in part, fear that had stilled her advance. Every fiber of her being wished to carry out the actions commanded of her by her faith, and yet she knew those rules no longer applied. Without her sisters, she was lost in every sense of the word. Meteora had not known how to proceed, but as the boy submitted and then assured her she had no reason to be frightened of him— she tilted her head back and laughed in incredulity, a cruel sound but no less genuine.

"Afraid of you?" she queried, her accent trilling and arrogant. Even now, so far from her home and her culture, it amazed the sea-wolf how brazen males could be— even young males— without the guidance of the Nereides. For a brief moment, she pulled her lips back to show teeth, biting words dancing on her tongue (You should be afraid of me, filth), but the exile remembered her new circumstances and it sweetened her, if only slightly.

"It is dangerous for you, without the gaze of your mother," Meteora admonished him instead. It was true that he was no longer a babe, growing quickly towards adolescence by the gangly look of him, but despite his youthful energy, wolves his age were usually untried and naive. "Have you lost your way?"