Wheeling Gull Isle you were beautiful

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.