Beat like a heart thats painted in gold

Sedna watched the youngsters tear off with fondly narrowed eyes. She would like to hear his stories, and learn more of this strange land they had landed themselves in. If her nose hadn’t betrayed her (or his own words for that matter), he was of a pack, and while her pride still stung at the circumstances of her leaving her mothers, she understood well the advantages to having allies at your side.

She allowed their turbulent passing to highlight the tracks the local rabbits tore along to reach the safety of their warrens, but recognised dusk as a perfect time to fish. So steadily she loped along behind, like a ranch hand minding her herd, ears turned forward and eyes scanning for anything that might cause harm to her young charges. She couldn’t bite back a sigh that it had already come to this. She had asked her brother, when Sigrún joined her, Do I look like a babysitter? Another joke at the hands of some greater power than she, no doubt.

Catching up to the younglings, feeling the sand between her toes, the familiar scent of salt on the breeze hit her with pangs of homesickness. She thought back to her mother’s tales of Torbine. “Sturgeons can grow to be as long as two wolves standing nose to tail... one nearly drowned my mother once when she mistook it for a catfish.” She dared to smirk, ”If I’m not mistaken though, the ones that live in the sea are far toothier?”

She only had stories to go off, but hoped their little fishing trip would be free of black and white sea wolves, or sharks and stingers. She quite liked all her limbs where they were. Despite her trepidation she waded out into the water until the waves lapped at the underside of her chest. She held still, eyes narrowing against the reflection of the setting sun, waiting for a telltale shadow, a glint of silver that would give away her prey. Fishing required patience, and she wasn’t quite sure either of her companions had much of that to spare.