Wheeling Gull Isle no resentment ever evened out a weaker hand

surprised, she watches as mou responds to aralez's ministrations, feeling a strange rush of something like pride -- she did this, or at least helped, to keep this tiny fighting spirit alive, to nurture him to a place of being able to respond at all. it is a fleeting emotion, gone before she can name it and her attention turns back to coelacanth to listen to her lesson raptly.

body talk. the fearghal nods, following her logic -- pay attention to the movements he makes, the tiny gestures others might miss. they communicate more than words. she doesn't know what every movement means yet but she has time to learn, and what better subject of study than mou? aloud she says "i understand," dipping her head with a studied seriousness. it is something like droman learning to read the sea, she realises, feeling strangely competitive at the comparison -- well, except hers involves helping real living people. hmph. her competitive nature is further rankled by seelie's suggestion of a team -- but only for a second. she's right, after all: her and mama are reed's best teachers, and maegi has been a valuable assistant throughout the process. 

"care for mou," she echoes (as she finds she often does in the inkdog's presence), tilting her head. after a moment she says, "he's lucky, too," musing, repeating what coelacanth had told her about fern and mur -- fortunate, these victims that find their way to their shores, fortunate for the island and its guardians able to nurse them back to survival. pleased with herself she flashes a quick smile, lowering herself back to mou's side to resume adjusting his limbs and the nettle leaves pasted over his swelling.