Wheeling Gull Isle Walk the Plank, Ye Scurvy Dog

“Tauhou, stranger. New come — newcomer,” the Aralez whispered shyly, a gentle smile tugging softly at her velveteen flews. “D-Drrrift — Drrriftwood,” she repeated with consternation writ across her delicate features, her tongue twisting over the syllables of his name, lips still shaping them for a few moments after she’d breathed life into her first poor attempt. She was all too happy to enter into another game of chase with him — this time with Komodo included! — but the guttural burr of the Earthstalker’s voice drew her up short and stiff. Surprised at how brusquely he was treating the island’s latest gift, she turned her head and cocked it pointedly in question.

“What is that supposed to mean?” questioned the shocked widening of her Neptune eyes and the aggravated crick in her ink-feathered tail as it ticked slowly to half-mast, the sumi-e brush tip curved upward like a scimitar at the ready. “No,” she protested succinctly, with a decisive shake of her head. Tufted ears swept forward upon her skull as she assumed an authoritative posture — but she was not a dominant dog, and she had known Komodo for so long, and she did not want him to be angry with her! One ear flicked uncertainly as she broke her stare to look upon the young wolf she classed as harmless and sweet. “Can ask,” she clarified in a silky susurrus. “Always ask.”

“Coelacanth. Seelie,” she told the pack’s newest Tauhou. She didn’t know what a “head honcho” was, but it certainly sounded like a bad thing to be. Part of her wanted to protest and to name her own rank, but doing so would require an explanation of the pack’s unorthodox hierarchy that evaded her own physical capabilities — and right about now, she didn’t trust Komodo to do the honors. What had gotten into him? She was unaware of her own allure to the males, and this made her less compassionate than she typically would have been toward the prickly Angakkuq. In her eyes, he was simply being ornery — and she couldn’t fathom why. “Welcome home,” she told Driftwood, and drew forward to nose tenderly at his shoulder, following through with a sleek shimmy as she snaked against him, mingling their scents. There was nothing sensual about her now.

Happy as she was to welcome the newest member of Undersea home, Seelie found that her taste for their game had ended. She threw the tension from her muscles with a vigorous shake, then passed by Komodo with confusion and frustration swirling in her limpid eyes. “Night, alone,” she repeated, and this time it wasn’t a question. Her throat hurt badly from all the whispering she’d been doing, and she moved inland at a quick clip, seeking water for a drink and a bath.