Greatwater Lake Boy toy named Troy

She had enforced their speed, urging them on when it felt as if they could make no more pawsteps; Aktaiê was eager to make her ancestors proud, stretching their reach to a foreign shore. This was especially true when the terrain had forced them inland. It had cut like a knife to be so far from the Mother Sea, and she felt empty without the sound of crashing waves as a constant, comforting presence. It would do them all some good to rest on this shore, though it did their deity no justice — it was merely a whisper of the Sea's power, but it was powerful and rejuvenating nonetheless.

Aktaiê lay in the shallows of the lake, seeking comfort from the day's heat, bright eyes watching her younger sister contentedly. This would not be their claim, but it felt almost like home to lay thus. Greyjoy was an ever-present shadow nearby, prepared to take care of her every need. Psamathe, focusing on her scrying abilities, divining meaning from the images shown to her by the water. They had spent many days in Themiscrya like this, Aktaiê urging the young nymph to strengthen her talents, discussing the symbols brought forth in her visions.

Her ears pointed in alert at the Adept's sudden words, body tensing. Aktaiê's eyes lifted, scanning the shoreline, and she moved swiftly to her feet at the approach of several wolves. She bristled immediately, teeth pulling back in warning; Greyjoy was like to be doing the same. But as they came closer, they were more familiar, and the dark woman cried out joyously. The priestess relaxed, the aggression melting from her features as gracefully as it had come.

"Akantha," she greeted warmly.