Cerulean Cape a thousand miles out to the sea bed

The cradle of the Sea swaddled her in saltwater as she sank downdowndown into the arms of her beloved Mother, watching the distinct orb of the sun fade out of focus as she reached the bottom of the shallow cape. Only then did the sting of the brine against her soft tissues cause her eyes to close. Akantha hung, suspended there for a spell as she listened to a thousand voices speak to her through the chorus of the tidal forces pushing the waves up into the shoals. But, try as she might, her body would not survive without air. 

Akantha kicked, limbs slicing through the water until she, at last, broke the surface with a great gasp—drinking deep of lifegiving oxygen. She instinctively plotted a course to shore, and it was then she glimpsed the she-wolf stood there on the foam-kissed sands. Of note was her demeanor: the pale wolf wore the gravitas of a thousand lifetimes, and it suited her ill. A rumble rolled like thunder in her throat to warn the stranger of her intent to approach, granting her ample time to flee... or to fight, if she so fancied.

From the wake she emerged, water cascading from her dense coat of umber, and tail cricked in apprehension.