Sea Lion Shores danger close

Moorhen didn't know exactly when Doe had stopped being her god; she only knew that it was somewhere between turning away from Kingfisher and stepping up to take on the rank that Doe had once filled. And she still sometimes woke in the night, having dreamed of those hot, wrathful eyes once more - but she'd come to realize that Doe was just a woman. A wolf like her. A small, pitiful creature. A ravening beast, like Aditya had become.

There was no magic in the world. She understood that, now. Not even in Coelacanth's ocean blue eyes, or the wild toss of the waves. Not in the markings on her ribs or in the sparkling caves beneath their island. All of it - the sea, the wolves, their island, herself - it was all just chance and the wild. There was only her choices and her heart and her will, and the blood and marrow and sinew that had built her into the powerful creature she was today.

But it had been a slow realization. Creeping and unsettling in the night, but a proud banner she wore today like the gilded cloak of a king, and her teeth were the crown and her mettle the scepter she ruled with. All heavy ornaments, but she had built herself up to this place, where she could take the weight of disillusionment and bear up underneath it with the bearing of Akhlut.

A pale figure caught her eye, and she watched this knowledge, this power, as it caved in on the man all at once.

Abandoning the sea lions, Moorhen turned her attention to the man and watched as he threw himself against the rocks. Her stomach churned, dark ears flying back uneasily at the sight. She was larger than the other wolf and in better shape, but she remembered the wrath of Aditya's madness and wisely kept her distance, even as the urge to investigate attempted to overwhelm her sensibilities.

She thought of Aditya and knew - knew in a bone-deep, dreadful sort of way - that the man would need to be put down. He was too close to her island, her family. Too wild. Too dangerous.

He turned toward her, and Moorhen watched with her own pulse beating uncomfortably loud in her ears. When he had turned, she'd seen a flash of something dark and terrible - something she had feared she would never see again. Something she had prayed - ardently, at times - she would never see again.

Szymon, she said, her voice hardly even a whisper. The dark woman remained rooted on the spot, all sense, reason, and will swiftly exiting her body.