Sequoia Coast You used to be thirsty for me

From her position in the ever-shifting waters, Dexamene watched and waited. She had never been as openly brash as her mother, but always more adaptable like the true Mother of all wolves. She was a watcher first and foremost, though she had an edge to her that was as frigid as winter's first frost. Mostly, she was silent and observant.

It was these traits she attributed her survival to, and her continued solitude. Somewhere on the coast, she spotted the dark figure of a female lower herself to the ground, shrouded from sight by the tree, but Dexamene knew she was there. She had seen Raven approach the trunk, after all. The Nereides had no reason to disturb another wolf, so she merely dunked her head beneath the rolling surface, cresting with her ears and head tilted back so the water ran in refreshing rivulets down her face.

It was only when she opened her eyes again and spotted another wolf, clearly a male from his build, in close proximity to the first that she acted. She churned water and silt beneath her feet, rising like some sort of small bear from the ocean's embrace and making a beeline straight for them. She drew near just in time to see the male reach out a paw to touch the female, and her approach quickened with the lowering of her ears and the twisting of her face into a warning snarl.

She easily met the short distance between the two wolves, and instantly sought to place herself between Shadow and Raven with a disgruntled snarl. “Do not presume to touch her again,” warned Dexamene with a flash of her turquoise eyes in his direction. Her bared teeth, while soundless, served as a warning from the siren that he was not allowed the privilege of laying a single toe upon a female, as he was a male and males were nothing in her society.