Fish Back in Water

She would not try again.   She lashed at him angrily, teeth snapping and her fins flaring in distress.  She was volatile and unpredictable, relentless and unwavering as the sea she dwelt in.  For a fleeting moment, he thought she might do more than scorch him with mere words, noting the way her slitted eyes settled on the silver pup, lingering a moment too long. He did not need the power to invade minds to know that she harbored ill intent in her heart.  He pinned his ears, waiting, watching. He didn’t know what the wolf pup meant to him, not yet, but he surely wasn’t going to allow her to trample a newborn pup even though he had only snatched the pup moments before whirling through the vortex of the portal from Helovia and into the Rift.  He went very still, a snarl building deep in his throat, but the sea siren’s moment of hostility seemed to have passed—fading as quickly as a sunset. She returned her attention to the sea calf, hovering over him like a worried mother, her nose brushing the creature's markings, fading.  He watched her carefully, less inclined to offer his help now.  She had taken no action, but that did not erase the threat he had seen in her eyes. There was very little preventing her from turning on him completely. A single knot kept the peace between them  “Alright,” he replied curtly, not attempting to conceal the icy tone he addressed her with.  He lowered his head, silver gray hair sweeping across the ground.  Gripping the vine gently, he shuffled the plant into place, noting the little whale’s feeble sounds. He pulled, securing the loop underneath the fins.  His silver pup whimpered softly, scurrying beneath his hooves.  He felt something strange, then, fear, hitting him like a physical blow, until he felt nearly overwhelmed with the sensation. Somewhat bewildered, he wondered if some sort of emotional, mental connection had formed with the pup when he witnessed the egg hatching.  He would have to ask the sea mare, assuming they survived the Rift together, and supposing she did not kill him first. “Let’s go.”     The shadows of the Rift seemed to expand, roiling and writhing, and then collapse violently around them.  Neon colors flashed and whirled, spinning faster, faster, and faster still.  He braced himself, ears pinned and teeth grit.  But nothing happened. He pricked an ear tentatively forward, not trusting that the wrath of the Rift had fully passed. But it had, and he breathed easier as the sudden onslaught of shadows dispersed.  Had the striped sea siren felt the malevolence brewing in the shadows as well, or had he experienced some sort of delusional hallucination? He glanced at her quickly, his eyes widening as black liquid pulsed from the amulets she wore, flowing like an oily black waterfall down her armored body. “I hope that’s not poisonous,” he said grimly, before moving ahead, pulling the suffering creature as gently as he could manage while making haste.  They could only wait and see if the black liquid had any ill effect; there was nothing they could do about it now. But they could save the young calf. He had only started moving when a horned, steely gray mare with a glowing marking and golden eyes like jewels stopped to address the armored sea mare—Aquila, as the newcomer said.  And Craonos.  They knew each other then. The mare asked what was wrong with the calf and Raistlyn flattened his ears, feeling irritated by the question. Wasn’t it obvious? “We need to go,” he said to the horned mare. “If you want to help, you can carry the pup.”  He motioned to the small, quivering silver wolf pup huddled by the sea calf, her eyes wide with fear.

@Wessex @Aquila