Is it the sea you hear in me,

At the first sound of approach the girl's face whips sharply in the direction of her company. The whites of her eyes shining with eerie contrast to her dark irises beneath the sallow sun. She barks with maleficence. Backoff. She turns to face the stranger head on as parted jowls seek her sent with desperate intent. At first Circe feels trust. In her poor state her first instinct is to follow. Her tail curls and tucks neatly between two thin, sharp thighs. Secondly, Circe feels comfort. This stranger is a woman and a mother. The idea is alien to her but instinct draws further submission and her tense stance softens. Superior. Pregnant. Unfamiliar.Thirdly, Circe realizes the stranger has spoken. It has been long since she has heard any speech and for the few tense minutes shared between them the speech is intelligible. Her mind races to understand the stranger, but her fear and confusion strikes first. A rigid spine bends to expose sacred geometry, ears fold and tauten a starving face. Yet Circe chooses to whine rather than to snarl, that choice posing a specific inquiry -- Will you hurt me?

Its dissatisfactions?