Wheeling Gull Isle I got the woofers in my Jeep

If there was one place Sockeye thought he ought to check for his brother, it was the island. They'd come from an island, after all, and although Sock had little desire to strand himself once more, finding his brother seemed worth the inherent risk of wading across the sandbar. If it disappeared behind him, he could always swim.

After battling the waves, Sockeye dragged himself onto the island's shore, giving in at once to the urge to shake out his pelt. Clumps of wet, quicksilver fur clung together to form quills all up and down his spine, but Sockeye didn't notice this as he paced further up the beach, nose twitching as he took in the scents of the pack that lived here. His brother did not seem to be among them. This left the male with a sinking feeling in his chest, but it was more resignation than disappointment. He'd known it was a long shot, but it still seemed a shame to have used all that time and engery only to get nothing in return.

Sockeye sat down on the beach and peered up into the tall grasses and the woods beyond them. There didn't seem to be any luck for him here, but he wished there was freshwater somewhere nearby that he could taste before heading back into the surf. For now, he simply rested, trying not to think about how long it would take to get back to the mainland.

The little Groenendael tore up and down the Strand like a beast possessed, her tufted ears slick against her skull and her Neptune eyes wide and white-rimmed. The puppies were under Moorhen and Stockholm’s care, and the new mother was stretching her legs in a manner that suggested she had been waiting to do this for weeks — (she had) — and was trying to get all of her energy out at one time — (she was). She cavorted and whirled, leapt and danced, and made several faux lunges at the lapping wavelets before she noticed Sockeye and skidded to a careening halt.

Panting lightly, she shook the sand from her fur and boofed at the stranger, elongated ears tipping forward upon her skull as she cocked her head curiously at him. An innate urge to protect her young kept her from being too outwardly welcoming toward the wolf, but she dipped uncertainly into a playful bow nonetheless as she bounced a few paces further east along the treeline.

Who was he, and what had brought him to her island?

Sockeye was a bit confused by the appearance of the creature that came to greet him. At first he was not quite sure what he was looking at, but the scent of wolf upon her soon mollified him - whatever she was, she was a part of this pack. "Hey there," he called out, standing and offering a bow of his own. His tail wagged against his hocks, the tip curved out instead of in, and his body was curved in gentle deference.

"Lookin' for a boy who looks like me," he explained. "Name'a Steelhead. Seen him 'round here?"

Oh, she was pretty. Sockeye found himself feeling fond of her at once, although he didn't fool himself into thinking it could go somewhere. She smelled like a whole mess of kids, and a girl like that probably had a beau somewhere behind her. Sockeye had to find his own beau, even if Steelhead wasn't half as nice to look at.

He spoke, and her tufted ears popped to attention like cartoon exclamation points, canting eagerly toward him. Apparently, his voice was the only credential required. Seelie flowed across the sand to meet him, her body language entirely innocuous; elongated ears slicked back shyly as her tail whirred like a helicopter rotor behind her, and her catlike paws never quit their sprightly dancing. She wanted to play with him, but he had a mission on his mind — and she sobered at once, shaking her head decisively when he asked about a wolf named Steelhead. How funny! This wolf’s lost boy was a fish, just like her — and all four of her children.

She felt, somehow, that speaking would sunder the easy joy of their meeting. His brow would furrow as he tried to understand her, and he would do his best and muddle along like the rest of them, but maybe he would find the effort more trouble than it was worth. She wished that one of the other seawolves had come along to do her talking for her — but she was also deeply pleased that she’d met him alone.

For now, he belonged to her.

Maybe her bad news had already ruined everything. Maybe it didn’t matter this time that she spoke in incomplete, sometimes indecipherable fragments. Her new self-consciousness regarding the spoken word had everything to do with her children — what would they think, if they saw their mother trying to muddle along aside great speakers like Hemlock, Reed, Faeryn, and Stockholm? They would know the extent of her flaw, then. It was absolute. She could understand everything that was said to her, in multiple languages; but she lacked the muscle memory and the wherewithal to speak with fluid fluency. It hadn’t been a problem when she was a subordinate, the far wandering daughter of a king — but she was a mother and a leader, now.

She wandered nearer, delicate nose outstretched, as she drank in his scent in a soft, hiccupping series of whuffling sniffs. He hadn’t said anything to her that required her to speak, and maybe he was just going to leave now that Steelhead wasn’t here, anyway. There was no need to showcase her incompetence.

Not yet, anyway.

Sockeye wasn't surprised by the shake of the woman's head. It had been fairly clear to the male that his brother was not among the island wolves, and what little hope he'd retained hadn't been enough to change his expression once it was lost. Instead, he gave a grateful wag of his tail at having been answered, and mirrored the woman when she stepped toward him.

She smelled like a big family. Sock named them in his head - Papa, six pups, a few kids, some yearlings, a few adults - and when she was near enough to touch, he rubbed his cheek against her shoulder, catlike and quick. And Sockeye. Tail wagging mischieviously, he sat back on his haunches and regarded her curiously. Everything from her tufted ears to the indeliable black of her coat made her look strange and alien. Like something a fire had eaten up and spat back out.

"This your island?" he asked curiously. It was the bitch with the kids that ran the show, right?

Seelie tossed her head playfully when Sockeye rubbed his cheek against her shoulder, exchanging their scents. In invitation, she bounded a pace away and dipped into a playful bow, her forepaws beating a sprightly tattoo against the rolling dune. His question was answered with a nod, and then Coelacanth did draw breath to speak, tufted ears flipping back upon her skull with obvious indecision and reluctance. “Our island,” she breathed in a threadbare whisper. “We — of here, this island, jewel under sky’s light and sea’s song. Undersea.” She was eager to put the verbal part of their interaction behind her, and leaned forward. If Sockeye would allow, she would nibble at his cheek, then dart away with a daring, airy whine.

The answer intrigued him, as did the woman's soft, strange voice. He was beginning to wonder if all the wolves in the area were near-mute, but at least this one seemed confident and friendly. And had her own island.

"Can I stay?" he asked, leaning into her nibble and them following after her when she moved away. His tail wheeled in a friendly arc as he gave half-hearted chase, snapping at her feathery heels when he was near enough.

The real uncertainty here was not whether the bright young wolf could stay, but whether he would stay. Undersea was a sanctuary for the lost, the sick, the weary, the wounded. Not even “gifts” from the sea were permanent; the storm had taught her that. Thus, Seelie couldn’t answer that question any more than Sockeye himself could, and by way of reply, “Can you catch, Tauhou?” she teased him playfully, disappointed by his lackadaisical show thus far. It was not an alpha’s biological imperative to choose the strongest and the best that made her long to test him so, but an impish desire to get past the fol-de-rol and continue with her romping. She kicked into a brisk trot, alternately putting on speed and dropping back to egg him on.