Neverwinter Forest Piscean

What choice did she have but to follow? Seastorm gritted her teeth against the pain of movement, watching the man more carefully than she watched the path ahead. In time he brought her to — she wasn't sure, at first. A quick inspection told her that this was a sleeping place, softer than what she'd grown used to. Seastorm wondered idly if this was meant to help her heal faster.

She didn't voice that, though. Instead she watched the man with sharp, wounded eyes, baring her teeth when he came close. Catamaran. A low growl simmered in her throat as he brushed his own fur against hers, but she made no other move. Seastorm recognized this, at least: she was being claimed.