Wheeling Gull Isle runaway now and forevermore

Backdated to March 24, 2018. ♥ Come sing along.

@Stockholm @Faeryn @Hemlock @Komodo @Moorhen @Reed @Droman

The caches were stocked and the borders were marked; every obsessive headcount arrived at the same reassuring total; Moorhen Cairn had returned to the sea her warhound ancestors cleaved to so fiercely; and Amoxtli and Coelacanth — the “little’uns” — had been reunited at last. Stockholm’s vows — “Keep. Mine. Always and forever,” — rang true and clear in his Groenendael’s memory and manifested in all that he did; and across the sea, the next generation of Cortens fluttered and kicked within the ecliptical curve of Catori’s growing belly. The sheepdog had her flock now. The wolf had her pack. Everything was better than good, but Seelie worried regardless.

Just before dawn on the twenty-fourth of March, she nosed at @Stockholm and @Moorhen, then tipped her finely tapered muzzle skyward and “howled” — a tuneless susurrus that whispered from her lips in an elongated sigh. She hoped the seawolves would help her sing their claim.