Wheeling Gull Isle you were beautiful

@The Body ♥

Sometimes, even though she tried hard to remain professional about the whole thing, Coelacanth found herself overwhelmed with sorrow at the cruel fate that had befallen her friend. She emerged from Rainsong Labyrinth just after midnight, leaving Stockholm and Moorhen in charge of the puppies, and stole away to Titmouse’s haven of convalescence. She thought perhaps he could bear her touch, given the excellent care he was receiving from the pack’s healers, and tucked herself with infinite gentleness along his back. Her shorter spine and smaller body allowed her to avoid his gravely wounded hindquarters. “Mou,” she breathed in a choking whisper, and bathed his crown in kisses, heedless of her own safety. The throat wound was healing well, all things considered, but his body was so broken — and his mind! Did he ever sleep? His remaining eye never seemed to close; it was open and roving even now, and that, for whatever reason, was the catalyst that shattered Seelie’s composure. She wept openly — and he could raise no judgments against her.

The salt of her tears was lost in the soft fur at his nape, and she didn’t know if he could hear the quavering of her breath, but she thought certainly he would feel the uneven hitching of her ribcage — and she was ashamed. “Mou,” she hiccupped, believing she could have saved him. If only he had come home with her! There had been several opportunities, and though he had declined every offered invitation, maybe she could’ve been more forceful about it — maybe she could’ve been more alluring — maybe, maybe! — but now it was too late for maybes and should-haves.

She couldn’t even talk to him — not with the same ease and fluency the others knew. “Puppies, Mou,” she whispered to him, laving the soft fur between his ears. “Four. Small. I wish…you meet,” she sniffled, “soon. Maybe too hurt, now.” She traced his ear with her nose.

There were times he would sleep, but one might not call it that, for certainly it was not restful in any way. When he'd been awake too long and he just could not stay coherent, then he would drift; any noise, pressure of movement nearby, or slight twinge would pull him closer to waking. If he slept, it was insufficient. During one such lapse, the boy was awakened by the soft caress of a body pressing across his back. It was slight; compared to the pain of his arrival and the inconsistency afforded by his treatment, perhaps he should not have noticed. 

There was a voice, too. It sounded far away at first. So soft, so sad. But not familiar.

She called out to him with a single breath, repeatedly, Mou—
Who was that?

His ear twitched, and then she began to groom at his fur, murmuring about puppies, and he watched her as calmly as he could. Eventually she calmed. She seemed so heavy — not physically, but, it was as if there was a weight pressing upon her. Was he causing that? Was he hurting her by being here? He wanted to give her comfort — at most, he could open his mouth, and when he tried to speak, he managed to breathe a small, M - uh?

“M — uh?”

The soft, hollow rasp of his ruined voice was loud to Coelacanth, who had begun to fear the worst despite the gritty determination she put on display for her colleagues. “Mou,” she confirmed gently, long, slow strokes of her tongue smoothing the fur between his ears and down his nape. She was reasonably sure that he could hear her, and she believed erroneously that he knew and remembered her, so she cracked open her weeping heart to show him the glittering geode of love and sorrow that had crystallized therein. “My friend die,” she breathed into his ear. “I fight and fight — ever, ever! — so you live.” Oh, Doe! Oh, Grayday! Oh, Aditya and Dawn and Sunny, Eventide and River and Kitten!

“Mou fight and fight,” she urged him. “To stay. Please.”

She implored that he fight, and of course he would do his best as any dying man would, but at the same time he knew somehow that death would always be calling for him. There were many skilled healers here to aid him; their diligence, coupled with her unfailing optimism and apparent connection to the body, made the boy think that, perhaps, this might've been his home after all. Would they have tried to hard for anyone? Would this poor dark girl be this heartbroken?

He opened his mouth again to speak, to acquiesce, and a scene flashed before his eye — so fast he didn't quite catch it. The image was of the girl on a beach; the feeling of sadness weighing on him — and then, disjointed, the image of a dark body beneath him —

The boy was piecing fragments together from his life before, but they didn't fit. She spoke of puppies — he saw himself with someone — and if this were his home, truly, perhaps those puppies were his too. With a tired sigh he says, F-eye, and watches her keenly, hoping she understands him. Mm, f-eye. He'd do his best, anyways.

An idea occurred to Coelacanth, then. She warred with it briefly, knowing that it was utterly unwise, but hoping fiercely that all would be well. In the end, hope won out; she wished so hard upon that star that if she squinted, it could be mistaken for belief or faith. “Mou, please wait,” she breathed, smoothing her tongue across his brow and pirouetting on her hind paws. She evanesced like a blur of cuttlefish ink into the evening tide and returned with a small ball of fur in her mouth — just one. It would be too troublesome to rouse Stockholm and Moorhen and too difficult to keep track of four puppies at once, especially when they were beginning to clamber about.

She set the dark pearl between her forepaws and licked gently at Mou’s cheek. “Mou, gentle — peace be.” As much as she trusted him, her maternal instincts were all too aware of the myriad pains that wracked his battered body, and the way a wolf could lash out when gripped by forces over which he had no control. She wanted to make this point, though, and she took Koi’s newly opened eyes as an auspicious sign.

The sheepdog stretched out with her feathered forelimb curled around her youngest child, who blinked up at the ashen wolf with misty blue eyes. She stayed within touching distance of Mou, allowing him to nose or lick at Koi — but should he lash out in any way, she would do her utmost to sweep the small girl away, or at the very least, offer up her wrist instead. Wishing that she could spin her words into a story or song as pretty as the event deserved, Coelacanth was forced instead to satisfy herself with the abridged version. “She is Four. Last baby,” she whispered to him. “Stars give me puppies, sea give me you, same day. Now…” She couldn’t summon the word for rebirth, though she would’ve snatched eagerly at it if someone else had provided it. “Now…together, grow, learn.” She nodded toward her tiny daughter.

“New life,” she whispered, leaning forth to nose at and nuzzle Mou’s lips.

“New life,” she repeated, craning her neck to caress the puppy’s tender crown.

The pearl had only known life for eleven days, and despite her newly opened eyes, continued to learn about her world through touch, smell, and taste. Her infinitesimal nose quivered wildly, head bobbling upon its axis with a river-ripple shiver of excitement, as she sought to drink in her unofficial big brother’s unfamiliar scent. It was different than anything she had ever known, and she cocked her head back, the prelude to a dry, non-productive sneeze. She turned to “look” at her mama, then turned back to regard the stranger, little mouth rounding into an “o” as she piped a soft, fluting whine that seemed almost intentionally melodic. One tiny paw waved uncertainly, then outstretched, reaching for the tip of Mou’s nose.

When she left him he felt her absence acutely, but it was not long before she returned and brought something with her. A part of him thought maybe it was a mouse, because it was something so small and soft, but as soon as the child was placed down and she began to fawn over it, Mou understood. He saw a connection to this child that wasn't right — the image of a dark body underneath his had produced this — and he looked upon Koi with shock and wonder.

The girl fawned over the two of them. She was so careful and so kind, and he returned the kindness. The boy sniffed and watched; he barely moved but for the wiggle of his nose, or the tremble of his ears when he heard the little voice. The babe was reaching out without thought and he felt the brush of the softest, smallest toes across his face, and his eye was suddenly glistening. He blinked it away as Coelacanth explained but she really did not need to — this was his family. This was his, all of it, and he was at peace with that.

New life, she crooned softly, first over the child and then, looking to him. A weak smile spread on his face then. A wetness spreading across his eye again, this time without any thought to stop it, and soon his face was streaked with happy tears. He couldn't speak but the look on his face was filled with amazement and love.

At first, Coelacanth watched Mou and Koi interact with sharp, anxious eyes — but her gaze softened at the waiting stillness of his body, the inquisitive quivering of his nose, the glimmergloss of his eye. She crept closer, kissing the tears from his cheek even as her own eyes began to glisten anew and spill over. It was so good to have him here — but it had come at such a cost! Would he ever walk again, speak again? “Oh,” she breathed tearfully. “Oh, Mou.” He would get better, she told herself fiercely. With Hemlock, Reed, Maegi, and herself tending to his wounds, how could he not?

Thoughts and ideas bubbled busily in the cauldron of her mind. The little eddies and pools in Morningside Moor would be good for Mou to build muscle with low impact workouts, and when he was feeling stronger he could use the gentle incline of Coaltree Rise to build his strength further still. Perhaps the puppies would be his partners in this, learning to navigate a bright new world alongside him.

For her part, the pearl clasped within her tiny turtle flippers the rounded taper of Mou’s nose, her little mouth gumming ineffectually at whatever she could reach. When her tentative suckling yielded no milk, however, she grew fretful, her soft, piping whines heightening in pitch and frequency until Coelacanth gathered her to her breast. “She anger — hunger,” Seelie blundered. “Mou, too, hunger?” Certainly, if Koi was hungry, the other three would almost certainly follow suit, but Seelie would linger a little longer with Mou and see to his comfort before checking on them.

Even as the squall began, as Coelacanth scooped the child away, Mou protested by reaching and scooping them back; he heard the comment about food but that was far from his mind right now. He wanted the child. He wanted — maybe that connection that he felt when it had gummed on his nose, or maybe  he just didn't want to be alone. But if Coelacanth insisted then he would give up. The babe was in need of its mother. Did he have a mother? Did she miss him?

A shadow flew across his face, a flickering doubt. But then he looked to his friend and shook his head carefully, letting her go about her business without worrying over him.

The sheepdog tilted her head in confusion when Titmouse made a feeble gesture toward asking Koi to stay with him — and though she would have insisted that she’d do anything to see him happy and hale, it became evident that anything did not include this. Maternal instinct told her that her baby hungered, and if this baby hungered, so might the other three. She was helpless before the biological pull that told her so, and so, with an apologetic flattening of her tufted ears and a full body wriggle as she shook out her fur, she kissed Mou’s cheek and picked up her puppy.

“Huroro,” she breathed solemnly. She would come back to visit him tomorrow, but for now, she turned on a feathered heel and made her way back to the Labyrinth.