Ankyra Sound He was growing in my garden

The girl did speak, and much. Her accent was foreign to Marina's ears, yet she assumed much familiarity: that Marina knew this Sapphique, that she knew this beach for sacred land beyond that it had granted life to herself and her brood, that she had come here to a purpose aside survival. Sapphique, she mused, wondering whether it was true power or mere delusion which had birthed such arrogance. Leonore showed none of it, nor the accent — but Marina was familiar with this story at least, wayward blood with more ancient roots than its bearer could ever know.

My name is Marina. As to how I came here... as well ask how the moon fades in and out of the sky, or how it moves the tide with it. I don't know, Marina was wistful, almost distracted; I know that I did not want these children, no more than I wanted the man who sired them - but they are mine, so I knew that they should be born to the sea, as all of my children were. This place is where the sea called me. That is what I know.

Her gaze flitted for a moment to the water. She felt unmoored; gone mad, perhaps. It was the way of her mother's people, to hear the woman tell it. But her mother had died too young for Marina to ever see it firsthand.

When her eyes returned to the dark-masked wolf, they had sharpened again. The girl has a good heart. A soft heart. For as long as she stays, I mean to teach her otherwise. All the world feasts on the soft. Take her to Sapphique now, if that disturbs you. Yet Marina did not think the sharp young woman would disagree.