Ankyra Sound On the horizon, out on the edge of the world

The sound of her voice was carried from where she stood into the depths of the grotto where he possessively watched over his children and mate. There was a moment of defiance that flashed through him; he did not want to step away to attend to the Alpha’s wishes. His mind returned to the day she had warned him, and he breathed a tired sigh as he rose from his resting place, touched his nose to the heads of each of his children and then Caiaphas, and left their den for the cold coastal air. The ghost made way for her with brisk strides. Kierkegaard had grown stronger since his fall into the depths, but he was still aged and weary.

Once near to her, he released a deep-throated chuff to announce that he was arriving. With a low head and a limp tail, the mercenary closed the distance between them and stood five feet from where she was. The molten color of his eyes roamed from her limbs to her torso and froze there. The breeze cut through the jagged ends of his coat. Her call had been urgent, and so he had presented himself urgently. A slight cant of his head, and the brute inquired to her, “how may I assist you?” The tone was even and respectful; not a hint of emotion, as was his custom. Kierkegaard was there to answer the call, but he had young to worry about and the tired sea witch, so he opted to keep himself as dutiful as he could.