Ankyra Sound hold our skin over the light to hold the heat

Wolves made from the ocean. Marina smiled at that, if only faintly. My ancestors were, if the stories can be believed. Maybe that's why their children always seem to lose their way - all that tumbling through the waves. Mere idle fancy, yet it brought some small measure of comfort. Such was the way of their people, her mother had always said: to blame the ancestors, times long past, histories so ancient they'd become fanciful stories. Marina had never seen the appeal — until suddenly she did.

I'm alone, yes - alone as I can be in this state, and for all that, as well as I can be. But I won't be alone for long, Marina found her gaze drawn briefly to the subtle swell of her flank. Just for a heartbeat. Her eyes were a little lighter when they returned to the stranger. My child will be born soon.