Adonai gave a languid shrug of her shoulders at the questioning of her aunt. "Nescio quis pater meus. Mater, ne avum quidem loqui ex eo. Quod inducit ad malum putet." (I do not know who my father is. Mother, even Grandfather do not speak of him. That leads me to think that he was a bad man.) Her blue eyes rimmed with violet glittered in an almost predatory fashion at the assumption, as it were a delectable morsel-- for she assumed that she had finally figured it out.

"Quae est in sanguine, non est hoc? Si enim sanguis meus non pura: ergo non esset natus est magna. Facti sunt mihi magna." (Blood is everything, isn't it? If my blood isn't pure, then I was not born great. I must become great.) It was, she thought, a simple enough explanation. She had felt it from birth, that sense of being just slightly outside, slightly different. It had been wholly uncomfortable as a child and the feeling had not changed. But for what other reason would her mother never speak of the man who must have sired her? It was a question that she no longer could ignore.

The sand and salt clung to her tongue, as much as she tried to scrape it off with her teeth. A glare was cast in the direction of the small creatures, their dark shells glinting in the light. Her aunt seemed to find them marginally acceptable, but her mother was a huntress by nature and as such she had been raised on the finest cuts. There simply was no substitute. Fishing was an activity that Grandfather Eden had begun to teach her, off and on when he had the time for a longer visit. It was a suitable skill for a wolf of the sea and the beach. "Mea unguibus sunt adhuc calefaceret: Non possum dicere hoc harenae et os meum non libenter relinquo." (My paws will warm up again, I cannot say this sand will leave my mouth so willingly.)

Adonai waded into the frigid waters, the waves lapping against her ankles like slimy, icy tongues. She placed herself in such a way that her shadow was cast behind her, as she waited for the larger fish that sometimes would hunt the minnows in the shallows. The water cast an eerie reflection of the sky, as if the earth were mirrored deep below the waves. If she swam down deeply enough, would there be a copy of her, staring downwards into another world's ocean? Her sensibilities were a bit shaken by the thought, and she quickly tried to stamp it down-- ignoring the reflection in favor of the fish that swam below.

"Ah." She murmured quietly, as a larger fish darted past her paws, towards a school of tiny minnows feeding in the shallows. The girl leapt upwards and came crashing down with a mighty splash, nearly recoiling from the shock of the cold water on her face. A flopping fish was thrown onto the shore, soon followed by another, the first's unfortunate friend. Adonai's tongue ran across her lips, wiping away the frigid water from her fur and whiskers. She nosed one of the fish towards her aunt-- it was small and bony, but a far more decent meal that required a good deal less effort than cracking open the small clams. She stretched out upon the sand, beginning to pick at her own fish with a toothy, triumphant grin.

"Breve spatium valet emolumentum molestiae non putas? Mecum comedent." (A few moments of discomfort is worth a good reward, don't you think? Eat with me.)