Wheeling Gull Isle not unlike the waves

At one month old, the young king of the isle could both see and hear, and was a holy terror to those who dared attempt to keep him sequestered inside the den.  Fortunately, @Coelacanth allowed the pups to play outside its entrance most days now, and today was no different.  @Koi, @Six, @Thresher, and he basked in the sunshine, some sleeping in its warm embrace while others -- including Grayling -- tumbled and wandered about, exploring and interacting with the fascinating world outside.  One of Gray's favorite things to do thus far had been chasing the fat, slow bees that buzzed around the bright yellow dandelions that waved to and fro in the salty breeze, but a recent sting had discouraged him from such mischief.  So now he just beat up on the dandelions.  Tiny growls churred from his lips as he twisted and rolled onto his back, the long, green stem of a particularly threatening flower clutched in his teeth as he battered at it with his oversized paws.

Having grown to adore the comfort of a parental figure’s constant presence while she had been blind and deaf, Thresher found the addition of these two senses to be a bit overwhelming. Her siblings were noisy, the world beyond the den’s mouth was loud and it was very bright as well. Not that she minded the sunshine- the warmth was definitely enjoyed...But it was the vast amount of space that intimidated her. While she knew nothing but trust and love for her family, the little girl still knew instinctively to be frightened of new things- and there so very many of those outside.

She took comfort in the confidence of her siblings, and shadowed them more often than she went anywhere on her own- and even then, it wasn’t without the approval or prompt of one of her parents. She was happy to lay in the entrance to the den and watch- but she did want the flower that her brother was battling. It was bright and beautiful, and as far as she could tell, harmless. She wiggled forward just a bit, until the sunshine spilled its light on her haunches- but her tail tip still wiggled in the shade of the den’s mouth. With wide, entreating blue eyes, she watched her brother, uttering a soft but hopeful whine.

He growled and he fought, but the flower was too strong for him.  He lost his grip on the stem and the flower shot back upright, mocking him from its lofty position above him as he lay on his back, glaring at it in dismay.  Grumbling, he rolled over and stood up, flecks of grass littering his dark charcoal fuzz, and marched awkwardly over to the offending plant.  He lifted an oversized paw and smashed the flower flat to the earth, growling furiously as he worried the foul-tasting stem with his teeth.  It wasn't long before he noticed that somehow, he'd managed to break the stem and the flower now lay, unmoving and dead, at his feet.  

Were his cognitive faculties better developed, he might have found himself saying, Hmph.  Not so sassy now, are you?

At some point he became aware that his sister was watching.  He saw her at the same time that she whined, and his tail began to wag vigorously in response.  Grabbing the flower stem in his teeth, he half-toddled, half-hopped over to her, the bright yellow flower bobbing from where it hung in his little jaws.  Dropping it to the ground before her, he pointed at it and exclaimed excitedly, "Fhaaaa!"

The sheepdog watched her children play with a warm, amused expression, but her energy was sapped. The summer heat seemed oppressive to her, penetrating her inkdark fur and nestling with suffocating closeness against her skin. She stretched out, too warm to spoon lovingly against the heavy-furred Gampr who sprawled nearby, and breathed to their children in a silky susurrus, “Flower. Grayling, Trea — Thresher.” Of all her children, she got Thresher’s name mixed up the most. The little girl was Treasure more often than not, but, well, she was a treasure to her doting parents. “Koi, Six,” she added, for the simple joy of saying their names.

Koi had been engrossed in climbing Stockholm Mountain, little grunts and growls of effort whirring in her throat — but this time, when she tumbled off, she bounced delightedly over to Thresher and Grayling and crouched in the grass like a kitten waiting to pounce. Arching her back, she skittered sideways, her tail and hackles puffed out dramatically. Her ears still would not stand up, but hopefully that was only a matter of time. She fancied it made her harder to find or detect, but this wasn’t the case — even when she dipped below another tuft of grass, her tick-tocking tail immediately gave her away. “Roo!” she proclaimed in a sweet soprano, her voice rising and falling in a manner that seemed intentionally tuneful. “Awa — rrr…rooooo!”

When she was noticed, Thresher became slightly shy- but her brother’s boisterous ways almost always made her feel more outgoing than normal. He plucked the squished flower from hhe ground and sprang toward her, carrying it in his mouth. Thresher lowered her head and her entire body wriggled with glee as he placed the little flower on the ground before her, and though it was fairly crumpled from being attacked and trodden upon, she still found it bright and pretty. 

Koi dithered around, bouncing over to greet her and Grayling, before going off to rustle in the grass. She lowered her head to sniff at the flower, inching forward on her belly to get closer to the blossom, but reeled back, nose scrunched up- before she let out a sneeze powerful enough to tip her over backwards, which naturally spooked the little girl who clamboured messily to her mother’s side and thrust herself into the dark fur behind her mother’s elbow.

Six had been dozing, lulled into a light sleep by the warmth of the sun soaking into his mottled coat, vaguely aware of sounds around him though, and when his mother speaks his name his ears twitch and he cracks his eyes open, blinking a few times before stretching and rolling from one side to the other with a soft huff, as if he intended to go right back to sleep. But the movement of Koi bounding past to go join Grayling and Thresher draws his attention and he lifts his head, following her with his gaze before gathering his forelegs under him to sit up with a wide yawn.

The third-born of Coelacanth and Stockholm is not quite as bold and brave as his brother, nor is he as shy as Thresher, seeming to be somewhere in-between, leaning one way or the other depending on the day. Naturally intrigued by the flower that Grayling has valiantly slain, he rises to his feet to join Thresher in investigating it, but when she sneezes and startles herself its like a domino effect, and he gives a sharp yip! as he backpedals and trips over his own hind-paws and tumbles to the ground.

Instead of retreating to their parents though he regains his footing and stomps forward towards the flower that dared to hurt his sister, because clearly that is what happened, and he won’t stand for that! And with the fiercest growl he can muster up he thumps the flower with first one paw then with both forepaws at once.

The Gampr is now well used to being used as a piece of playground equipment for his children, Koi in particular. And he rests his head on his forepaws as she clamors over him, seemingly oblivious, every so often twitching an ear when an insect buzzes by. His golden eyes are filled with fond amusement as he watches Grayling battle with the dandelion and the exchange that follows when he brings it over to present to Thresher.

And he has to suppress the laugh that wants to naturally spill out when his cream-colored daughter startles herself and then Six in turn with her sneeze. Instead he lumbers to his feet and shakes his coat out before stepping over to Coelacanth to join her in reassuring Thresher that there is nothing to be afraid of. He dips his head down and touches his nose to his daughter’s haunch where she isn’t completely tucked into Seelie’s fur and rumbles softly, “It’s alright, little one.”

Grayling is concerned when Thresher is spooked into hiding by the force of her sneeze, but his little peanut brain fails to make the connection between her sneeze and the flower.  He is still too young to know what pollen and allergies are.  So when his brother approaches and begins to beat up on the flower, Gray is at first offended and outraged -- a high-pitched growl accompanying the puffing-up of his fuzzy hackles -- but then after a moment, he realizes that beating up on the flower is a lot more fun than standing around looking at it and he quickly joins his brother in the assault.

It didn't take long for Thresher to regain confidence, not when Stockholm reassured her and a moment had passed. She lifted her head, enjoying his preening and gentle words, and looked over toward the flower which by now was being assulted by both of her brothers. A tiny smile made its way onto her face as she watched them, grateful that they seemed to take it upon themselves to hassle the feather that had caused her to sneeze. The flower was no longer a threat- not with Sixgill beating at it and Grayling accusing it of its terrible misdeeds, but she nonetheless did not join in- there wasn't exacly a hostile bone in her body, not even when it came to self-defence, apparently. 

So instead, she removed herself from her mother's dark fur and nestled herself between her father's forepaws. While once she'd been small enough that she and another could curl up ther, she noticed now that the space between her father's forelegs had seemingly shrunk. Still, she was able to happily sprawl over them both, and began to reach gently for his muzzle with her two careful forefeet, willing him to lower his dark muzzle so she could get more cuddles.

Coelacanth watched the tableau with rapt attention, craning her neck and leaning her weight on her opposite elbow so she could shift her leg ever so slightly. She touched her nose lightly to her daughter’s with a reassuring smile. “Peace be, little dear,” she breathed, meeting her husband’s eyes as he offered reassurances of his own. Her Neptune eyes were warm with affection as Stockholm gathered Thresher to his breast, and she joined her sons on the battlefield for her daughter’s honor.

The flower was pulp at this point, so the gentle mother sought something else to capture her boy’s attention. She did not have to go far; the seawolves were kind about leaving gifts for the children, Fern and Mur included. A velveteen doe’s ear and a strip of spotted hide were easily and quickly procured and set expansively upon the ground in front of Grayling and Sixgill. Then, a little abruptly and for no apparent reason, the Aralez caught a bad case of the zoomies and began dashing haphazardly around the clearing, her tail whirring like a helicopter rotor as she flopped down on her forequarters with her cheek and right shoulder flush against the earth and began to propel herself forward toward the boys with a push of her hindquarters.

Thresher’s momentary fright caused a palpable ripple effect that danced through each sibling and both parents until at last it reached Koi. Like Sixgill, the lastborn Volkodav-Corten did not trend overtly toward either a lionhearted or a timid nature but hovered in a nebulous middle ground. She was easily influenced by the mood of her peers, and found herself paralyzed by Thresher’s fear, Grayling’s indignation, and Six’s fury. They tugged at her with equivalent strength, leaving her somewhat at a loss — so she crouched down in the grass until the tangle of emotions began to ease and Stockholm’s voice reached her, golden and warm. The words were meant for Thresher, but Koi drew them unto herself and was soothed. Coelacanth’s mist-silver murmur followed soon thereafter, and at last the pearl drew her trembling body up to peek through the blades of grass. The flower was very, very dead; Thresher was not frightened anymore; and mama was cavorting around at breakneck speed.

Koi emerged from the soft green grass and giggled, a sweet river-ripple of laughter dancing upon her tongue. Then, certain of her welcome, she smushed herself between Grayling and Sixgill to watch their mother’s odd approach.

Stockholm is delighted at how quickly Thresher regains her confidence with a little reassurance, and he settles more comfortably as she sprawls across his forelegs, a warm laugh rumbling in his chest as he dips his head down at her request and nuzzles into the soft plush of her puppy coat. “Always safe here,” he adds, even though she is no longer upset. “And your brothers will always protect you.” He is sure of this, as sure as he is of the fact the sun will rise and set again tomorrow and each day after that.

And he is quite content to stay there and snuggle with her while Seelie goes off to collect some more sturdy toys for the rest of their children to destroy, though he does glance up and watch in amusement at her outburst of energy as she joins them.

Thresher smiled as her father lowered his head to nuzzle her warm belly, and she gleefully, gently, wrapped her forelimbs around his muzzle, pulling him close as he spoke to her. There was nothing, it seemed, that her parents couldn't fix or conquer. Thresher's instinct was to be shy of novelties, but regardless of this, her parents' patience and encouragement was slowly beginning to teach her that she needn't necessarily react to everything that spooked her. She also didn't crumple into a malfunctioning mess when something happened, either, because she knew that her parents would always make her feel better. No harm would ever befall her while her parents were near. 

She rolled over, finally, and when her father referenced her brothers, she took interest in them again, and giggled softly as she watched her mother zoom this way and that, before giving her brothers a play-bow to invite them to join her. Thresher wasn't the most interested in rough play or running around like a lunatic- the zoomies were still something she had yet to experience, but she did enjoy seeing her mother act so silly, and continued to watch, hoping that she would continue to zip this way and that.

The Gampr smiles when his daughter turns her attention towards the spectacle that is Seelie and her zooms and Grayling and Six whose attention has shifted from the now very squashed flower to the strip of hide that their mother had presented to them, Koi emerging from tall grass to wedge herself between her brothers. His golden eyes are alight with mirth and fondness as he watches the scene unfold, tail thumping softly against the earth as an extension of the warmth in his chest and the energy in the air. Prior his and Seelie’s union, the wolfdog had never really given much thought to having a family, but now he can’t imagine anything more important nor more fulfilling than this moment.

He tips his head to the side slightly and the smile on his muzzle shifts to a mischevious smirk and he calls out, "First one that can catch momma gets a special treat." Its a challenge that he figures his sons will be more than enthusiastic to accept, and Koi has the option of either engaging in the ensuing chase or joining him and Thresher for snuggles.

Coelacanth made a show of thumping her spindly forelimbs upon the ground and wriggling her rump with exaggerated focus — but when she took off, it was in little fits and starts. She wanted to be caught and tackled and squashed! Otherwise, what was the point of running away? She bunny-hopped a few paces, her tail lashing with wicked delight, and only burst into a run when she was sure both of her sons were following. It was considerably slower than the tachyonic sprints for which she was known, but she still led them at a fast clip, tracing lazy s-shapes up and down the uneven terrain, encouraging their growing legs to grow accustomed to the soft sand and lush greenery that characterized their idyllic island home.

Koi wasn’t feeling quite up to a game of chase. In the aftermath of the confusing whorl of emotions, she wanted to be cuddled close — and with a soft, deeply wounded huff of her black button nose, she informed Sixgill and Grayling that they were falling short of her expectations in that regard, thank you very much. She returned to Thresher and Stockholm with her tail arcing uncertainly betwixt her hocks, peppering her sister’s cheek with airy puppy kisses. Thresher’s evident lift in mood and Stockholm’s constant reassurance helped to center and ground the pearl. With a soft, world-weary sigh, she tried to shove herself between Stockholm’s knee and flank.

Six is easily distracted from the smushed flower and readily redirects his attention to the offered toys, namely the strip of hide, which temporarily is used in a vigorous game of tug-o-war between him and Grayling. It is a game that the piebald boy is very invested it, though it is becoming increasingly difficult not to pay attention to their mother’s playful approach.

His ears perk up at Stockholm’s voice though, and he exchanges a quick look with his brother before they both abandon the hide and turn in pursuit of Seelie. Six zig-zags after her, stumbling every once in awhile in the soft sand and uneven slope of the ground, but never once seeming deterred by the set-backs of his not-quite-coordinated legs and paws. And on a slightly more level stretch of terrain he puts on a burst of speed, leaping forward to try to capture the feathery tip of Seelie’s tail in his jaws with the wild abandon that ridiculously young puppies often invest in such games.

The sheepdog felt the clip of her son’s blunt jaws around the tip of her tail and flicked it out of his grasp, but only just. Before the fuse burned out on his infinitesimal attention span, she allowed the fluttering banner to be pinched between his baby teeth. Dramatically, she fell to the ground to be pounced upon and climbed. She was just as excited as Sixgill was to find out what the special treat was, and turned doleful cerulean eyes upon her mate with wide-eyed wonder. “Treat?” she mouthed to her mate, a mischievous light sparkling in her seabright eyes as she conjured another word from their shared past with humans. “Cookie?”

Like her sister, Thresher was content to stay alongside their father and watch as Coelacanth zipped this way and that, pursued by Sixgill who put in a valiant effort. Eventually, his efforts paid off and their mother flopped to the ground- at which point Thresher left Stockholm’s side and joined Six in nuzzling and tickling Coelacanth’s side, though with more gentleness. 

When Coelacanth spoke a word, it was one that was new to Thresher- but she was intrigued. Her floppy beige ears pricked comically, their tall, pointed tips crossing above her head. What exactly was a cookie?

He laughs warmly at Seelie’s dramatic capture by Six and this tail thumps against the ground quietly when she turns her gaze to him. His smile is sly and just as mischevious as the light in her eyes. “Cookie,” he repeats with a nod and slowly gets to his feet, shaking his coat before gently nudging Koi with his nose, kissing the top of her head lightly before sauntering off into the tall grass to retrieve the ‘cookie’.

Stockholm is not particularly fast; when it comes to hunting his build his more suited to taking down larger prey with the aid of pack members. Despite his best efforts, his still hasn’t come close to mastering the art of fishing the way his mate has. And catching birds? Well, forget that.

Except this morning a bit of dumb luck – in the shape of a ruffed grouse – crossed his path while he was out on his rounds. Grouse are not terribly smart birds to start with, and this one was seemingly unaware of him (and he of it, if we’re being totally honest here) until the Gampr almost stepped on it. The chain of events that followed included the grouse being so started it flew head first into a tree and dazed itself to such a degree that the Overseer was able to triumphantly ‘catch’ it.

He had tucked it away in a cache close to the den, and now he unearths it and marches back to his family with the prize in his mouth, tail curled upwards slightly and wagging. He stops in front of Seelie and their children and drops the feathered reward in front of Six, watching with great amusement as his son’s eyes widen before he launches at the new toy and gets a mouthful of feathers. "Share," he suggests gently and drops to his haunches to observe.

“Treat? Cookie?”

“Cookie.”

The pearl’s oversized ears flipflopped curiously atop her crown. She did not join her sister and brothers, but flattened herself against the earth to await Stockholm’s return with wide, misty blue eyes. In her mind’s eye, the Grand Ambush would go down like this:

Like a painted bloom — a phrase Coelacanth uses to describe cuttlefish when she forgets the actual dictionary word for them — Koi gradually adopts the color of the earth she tucks herself against. She’s invisible. Stockholm arrives on the scene with a “cookie” in his mouth (which appears to be one of the island’s winged denizens) and his youngest daughter springs out of stealth mode and attaches herself to his face, the most loveable facehugger the world has ever known! Everyone is immensely impressed.

What actually happened was very different.

By the time Stockholm returned, Koi was so deep in the, “I am going to be so ready for this ambush!” spiral that she, uh, wasn’t actually ready to do the thing. She was still wriggling her silvern rump in preparation for launch when he passed her by, causing her to hop awkwardly behind him like a kitten who hasn’t exactly mastered the whole coordination thing yet. The distance from ground to face was so far and he wasn’t facing her anymore and how was she supposed to facehug him if he wasn’t making himself available to be facehugged — with her back arched and her fur puffed out in kittenish displeasure, she crab-scuttled sideways after him and then attached herself to his wrist.

It wasn’t necessarily a breed trait, but Coelacanth was very “soft-mouthed” and had passed this trait on to her youngest — and perhaps this was evident in the way Koi mouthed at but didn’t bite down on her father’s broad paw. This lasted for a moment or two as she regarded the proffered cookie with a healthy degree of caution.

The sheepdog watched her children congregate around the prize Stockholm had provided, unaware that matching such an evocative gift to the word “cookie” might prove confusing for the guppies in the future. Seelie and Stockholm had been raised among humans and had retained some words and phrases that would inevitably be assimilated into their entirely wild brood’s colloquial toolbox. For example, “bad dog” was the foulest of curses, the worst thing you could be called; and “good dog” was the highest of praise, the best of the best. For Coelacanth, “cookie” was synonymous with “thing that you get when you do something good” — but Koi’s young mind didn’t lend itself so readily to abstract concepts. “Cookie” very obviously meant “thing with wings that flies but is not a bug,” so, uh…conversations with the Seelholms are never going to be boring. This paragraph is a crock of dumbbutter. BASICALLY, SEELIE AND STOCKHOLM PROBABLY TALK WEIRD COMPARED TO ACTUAL WOLVES, BUT PLEASE PRETEND I SAID THIS ELOQUENTLY, OKAY? THANK YOU.

“Good girls, good boys,” the Aralez cooed in a breathy whisper, calling them lovingly by name. “Grayling, Sixgill, Koi, Treasure.” Poor Thresher. Seelie was never going to really be completely comfortable with the “th” consonant cluster.

Stockholm smiles as he watches Grayling and Sixgill enthusiastically tear into the ‘cookie’, Thresher taking a much calmer and measured approach and Koi…

Apparently thought his leg tasted much better than a grouse ever could. He tips his head, watches her gnaw at his wrist and paw and chuffs softly, amusement glinting in his golden eyes. He leans down and grabs a stray feather that has been cast aside in the flurry of motion and excitement, carefully picks it up in his teeth and turns his head towards her to offer it to her as her own extra special prize.