The soon-to-be queen of Ranjord was hurriedly trying to ready herself for this day when she heard her love’s call. It was nearly sunset, she reveled in the beauty. Marella quickly finished clearing the sand out of her fur before she bounded off to the throne of driftwood. She had stood in the sea spray until it made her fur shimmer and glisten, this was how Marella had been taught to get ready for any formal event.
She met her love in the clearing, grinning at the decorations of leaves in pretty orange and red. Two males followed him in. She eyed them: one of ice eyes and many shades of brown, the other a handsome Skyling.
“Welcome, I am Marella,” she told them. Then she turned her shining eyes to the king. “Hello, Aegir, it looks wonderful,” she spoke, referring to the clearing. She was already sizing up the two males, seeing that one would make a good delta, and perhaps the Skyling could be trained as a sigma. She hadn’t seen Émilie in weeks, and Raven in several days-the lass was pregnant, by whom she didn’t know.

“I’ll pull you in like the waves of the sea . . .”