Wheeling Gull Isle ii. moondust

Nibbling gently at the base of Moorhen’s skull where it sloped down into the thick fur of her nape, Coelacanth acquiesced. It was perhaps an oddity to the Bearclaw visitors that she would jump to obey her subordinates, but the seawolves weren’t altogether conventional when it came to hierarchy. In a critical situation such as this, it was natural for Moorhen — who seemed to have the situation under control, though Seelie didn’t know yet of her relationship with her Venninne — to command her Aralez. The sheepdog felt a surge of pride at how calm and collected her lamb remained, and very gently would gather the winter raven and her snow bunting with an eloquent nose pressed to each hip — one gamine and dark, one puppy-fluffed and pale — and lead them to freshwater to quench their thirst. Only once they were situated would she return to the water’s edge with a mouthful of berries for Moorhen to coax the ill-used ghost to eat when she woke.