The Sentinels shipwrecked

He did not stand down and Emaleth growled low in warning. Her mismatched eyes held his, the sea's fury churning within the ocean blue, the memory of the once-great forest burning in the emerald green. Once, the dark she-wolf might have disappeared between the trunks, wraithlike— a shadow playing tricks on the eye— but for all her self-imposed isolation, this place was hers, and the Morrighan had taken residence in her spirit. If she had not learned to become hard, resolute, she would not have survived all that time on her own.

I am not, she assured him with a bitter snarl. Emaleth Claudette Mayfair was far from alright. She had lost everything, including herself, and the only thing she was sure of was that this decimated forest meant something of great import to her— and this fairy ring, something greater still. More softly, she answered, I think I was born here.

He moved a pace closer, and the dark witch reacted instantly. With the swift elegance of a dancer, her jaws were at his throat, tantalizingly close the the warm beat of his heart, breath tickling the fur there— but she tasted the sea on her tongue just before contact, and Emaleth abruptly froze.