Wheeling Gull Isle Washed up

Closing this up!

Somewhat begrudgingly — for Coelacanth’s inky feathers were wholly ruffled by Dakarai’s literal resurfacing — the atramentous sheepdog mulled over her new name. Skiá. It was a lovely name, and more than worthy as a peace offering. By the time he’d finished his explanation, Skiá was sold. Dipping her muzzle low in acceptance of her new name, the tiny dancer pirouetted on a nimble hind paw and disappeared into the brush, disappearing as swiftly and silently as she’d come. For better or for worse, she had granted Dakarai a strange sort of amnesty — though she wouldn’t be leaving Stockholm shadow anytime soon.