Wheeling Gull Isle you were beautiful

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.