Wheeling Gull Isle we float before the sea at dusk
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it is dusk; the sun just dipping below the horizon. the family is mostly settled within the den, save for Fern, who picks her way around the entrance. she wander's further and further, enticed at first by the flicker of a lightning fly, then some beckoning scent in the @Reeds, then again by the shuffle of something on the ground. 

she recognizes it as something like the little things that scuttle into the waves when she manages to upend a big enough rock; but bigger. this one is perched near a bit of scraggly undergrowth, and the pup trots near fully intent on investigating this sea-spider so far from the water. 

poking muzzle is retaliated sharply against, and one of the heavy arms that seem so small and ineffective on the creatures by the beach is suddenly used against her. it snaps shut across her nose just as she jerks back with a yelp, slicing a narrow line across it. paws bat against her muzzle and she whines, the crab making a quick escape to beneath the shrub.

I'M A FLASH IN A CLASS OF MY OWN
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though her hands are full with mou's recovery, reed keeps an eye on the little ones -- aralez's, yes, and the children of the island, who are growing in leaps and bounds. a small mean (meaner than the usual) part of her is jealous of them in a way -- reed and droman were the island's children once, but they were ripped from it's shores for a brief interlude. even if the memories of her time on the mainland have mostly faded into snatches of sensation (older sibling's fur, mama's milk, arturo's teeth) she cannot wholly claim her childhood for it. 

but this is a silly thing, an adolescent bitterness that holds no real sway on her opinions of them. and when she spots the small body out and about by the den, she picks up her pace, in time to watch her dear sweet fern jolt back from a crab's claw. 

the nerve of the crustacean! the titian fearghal is quick to close the distance, winding her body around fern's -- the crab's escape is too hasty for reed to pursue, although it would be satisfying to slay the creature that dare hurt her dear. "this is why we don't play with crabs," she scolds instead, leaning to gently examine the small red line that's formed across her perfect little nose.
READ THE FUTURE IN MY PALMS THEN WASHED MY HANDS
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it is sharp and throbbing, the hurt, and the girl huddles into herself as Reed arrives and briskly wraps her much larger body around hers. watery blue eyes rise to meet the older girl's, yet she does not cry. "wab?" she echoes, confused and hurt and stunned. why does the crab dislike her so? she can see no reason for it, and does not think she's been mean, and this thought is what has her ears droop and her gaze become dangerously more watery.
I'M A FLASH IN A CLASS OF MY OWN
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of course fern does not understand and of course reed does not begrudge her for it. satisfied the nick is exactly that, just a nick, she gives her nose a gentle lick, releasing the child from the shelter of her titian form in order to take a seat with her. "crab," she repeats, half correcting, and sighs and gives a second lick when she sees that tiny crestfallen expression. "they are smaller than us, and frightened of us, and so they pinch to scare us away," reed explains, her tail thumping against the ground in a reassuring beat. "it's best to leave them alone," she adds, clicking her teeth in apparently imitation of crab claws for added emphasis.

[font]the girl seems to heed her advice, letting reed lead her away from the dangers of sharp-clawed crustaceans without complaint. once she is satisfied fern is safe and sound within her den properly, she takes her leave, pausing on her march toward her den only to grab a tasty crab snack.[/font]
READ THE FUTURE IN MY PALMS THEN WASHED MY HANDS