Wheeling Gull Isle resist

“Shadow!”

Tufted ears “blinked” to attention atop the little Groenendael’s velveteen crown, drawn taut and tall at that heartbreakingly familiar cry. She started forward, closing the distance, seeming to shrink the nearer she drew to her precious — and surprisingly tall! — seashell. Once, “Shadow” had been Doe’s name for her — and although repeating nicknames had been deemed a cardinal sin in most situations [e.g. Szymon and Dakarai trying to piggyback on their wives’ ingenuity], hearing it from Moorhen’s mouth now was comforting. It reminded Coelacanth that somewhere in the world were two other guppies — a barracuda and a tiger shark, by now! — who knew her as Doe’s Shadow.

“It’s me. I eim your Moorhen.”

Moorhen had never been an effusive speaker, and Coelacanth was floored to hear her talking in full sentences. Without hesitation, she drew nearer to the girl who had once been so little, her Neptune eyes bright with happy tears. A soft, crooning whine danced from her smiling lips and was lost in Moorhen’s dark fur; without asking permission she made to look over the puppy who had so often become a seashell, finding the telltale Cairn branding infinitely comforting. Yes, this was Skellige’s daughter. In those markings she saw Szymon, Skellige, and Julep, and she remembered Doe. She only wished that Moorhen was a little shorter so that she could bathe the salt and sand from her pretty face. It was time, Seelie decided, to try out her own voice:

“M-My,” she breathed hesitantly, shyly, “Moor — Moorhen.”