Duskfire Glacier who told ancient faerie stories to each other.

The merle straightened as the willow-curve wren seemingly materialized in the shadows of the cave’s dark maw — the gaping jaws of some horrific monster, the tale a wet nurse might regale wide-eyed pups with. Surprisingly, Imaq did not startle but sat bolt upright — swallowing back a lump in her throat when she found no judgement in the jade gems of Iana’s gaze. 

“Please,” was all she said in answer. Selkie could not even find it in herself to be ashamed that the wisp cracked on the end, tinged with the faintest hint of unspoken despair — as if the years of only her own company had left her starved of touch and begging for relief. 

The wolfdog scooted to make room for her…for whatever word it was that encompassed what Iana meant to her. Her gaze flickered down to the tiny swell as she shifted with care, wondering if the other healer would bring it up.