Wheeling Gull Isle resist

Had Coelacanth been able to see the parallels between herself and her mother, she would have been horrified — but she, like Selkie, saw in her previous actions a singular desire to provide a better life for the girl she’d driven away. She could not understand the accusation and the confusion in Moorhen’s fiery mahogany eyes, but she had a naturally guilty conscience. “I’m sorry,” bespoke the nervous way she licked at her lips, the submissive pinning of her tufted ears, the flurried whisk of her feathered tail. A firm nod answered Moorhen’s question, but Seelie tried her best to answer verbally as well, hoping that her efforts would appease the lamb. With a soft whine stirring in her throat, “Moorhen stay,” she whispered, finding it easy to find the word so recently uttered.

“P-Please stay,” she added, just in case it wasn’t clear the first time.