Dragoncrest Cliffs i beg your parsley

There are a lot of words and abstract concepts involved in explaining how she knows Antumbra. Coelacanth tries to piece them together, but ultimately fails: “Far…long away, summer,” she breathes, her gaze flickering immediately to Moorhen, Sixgill, and Koi — who are not supposed to be here right now! A stricken expression crosses her face, but she soldiers on: “I come. I come…to here, um…hurt.” She retreats to body language to convey what she cannot force her tongue to express, curling on the ground as she had that day so long ago, her ears flattened against her head in abject fear, trembling eloquently. Then she straightens, eyes pleading with the warrior queen to understand even as her gaze skitters submissively away. “‘Bumau?’” she breathes, trying to remember what exactly was said. “‘Bukau?’ Then, I leaf. Run.”

“My guard, Moorhen,” she introduces, though she is displeased that the banded raven disobeyed her command. Perhaps the crick in her tail expresses this, but most likely not, because it’s gone again the moment she looks at the mahogany-eyed female. She can’t be mad at the girl. “My puppies, Sixgill, Koi.” She continues, “My puppy Treasure, lost. Now look. Search. Do you find small girl, pale fur, long ear?”