Otatso Wetlands ii. pain and guilt

In truth, Coelacanth did not want to be separated from Stockholm in any capacity — but she worried that his hulking frame would frighten the creature whose shrill cries and heady scent trail assailed the Groenendael’s senses with the capricious malice of a winter storm. The female was wounded, which caused the empath to quicken her pace, even as she bestowed upon her beloved guardian a pleading gaze that begged with liquid eloquence, “Stay here, and protect me.”

Coelacanth crept nearer, the set of her carriage more alarmed than guilty. The scent of sex lingered upon Reigi, but fortunately Seelie could not detect the dizzying ambrosia that would signify estrus; if she could have, possessiveness of Stockholm might have driven her toward an entirely different set of behaviors. Maybe the Gampr felt it, too — a strange, spiraling whirlwind the sheepdog was helpless to explain. A growing tension she had no name for. She pushed it aside.

A low, crooning purr, interrupted by inquisitive little chirps, hummed within the column of her throat as she drew nearer to the female. She moved slowly, her keen physician’s eye settling immediately on the lacerations slashed haphazardly across Reigi’s flank. Tufted ears slicked back against her skull as she lowered her body and paused midstep, the tilt of her finely-sculpted head asking quite plainly whether the wild wolf would tolerate her approach. Her Neptune eyes were observant, but very, very careful not to make eye contact with the larger female. “I am nice,” bespoke the curl of her haunches into a seated position, the entreating wave of one catlike paw.

“I am harmless and nice.”