Blackfeather Woods the gull’s way and the whale’s way

Coelacanth followed Astrid without questioning why the lupus sidereum saw fit to free her. The unobstructed sight of the moon loosened the constriction of her tightly held breath as she turned her face toward the night sky, emaciated frame tinged with the scent of iron as beads of blood welled like molten rubies upon her flesh and eventually congealed. A questioning whine tiptoed up the column of her throat as she dared a glance at those bright, mismatched eyes. Was she meant to go through the meadow? The tiny sheepdog was ignorant of its dangers, but something in the air just didn’t seem right about the place, so she paused to await further instruction. Lest the speckled female doubt her gratitude and submission, Coelacanth made herself low, tufted ears nestled against the slope of her crown, and curled her feathered tail demurely under the sharp arch of her emaciated abdomen.