Wheeling Gull Isle making my way downtown

Speaking of Fern and Mur brought another topic to mind — one that Seelie was both proud of and shy about. “Reed to follow Hemlock’s paws?” she asked gently, a furious whisking of her tail making her eagerness to please plain. She didn’t want to force the subject on the little firebrand if she wasn’t ready to talk about it. “Soon more guppies,” she explained, nosing at her swollen flank. “Reed welcome ever, play, talk.” She hoped that once her own children were earthside, Reed would come to visit often, and play with her little brothers and sisters. The next sentence was harder to admit. “Please talk my babies?” she begged in a silky susurrus. She would never be able to reach the same degree of fluency as her fellows, and she did not want her children to befall the same fate. There were so many stories and songs she wanted to share with her babies, and it was painful to admit to herself — and more painful to admit aloud before this small, fiery girl — that she never could.