The Sentinels returning in a way

for @fable and @sockeye

in her heart she knew she had arrived at the place where mama considered her story to begin. she saw the island in the distance, the place where her mother of many names had found her family.

but land so often traded paws, and she did not know if it was taken or to whom it belonged. she was content to hold the island only in her eyes. she perched at the highest point she could find and let the wind carry her spirit there.

@Sockeye was somewhere behind him — but Fable was too invested in the search to wait around. He was looking for a good place to take a nap, of course. What else could be so important?

Instead, he found a woman gazing into the distance. Waiting for her husband to return from the war? He eyed her for a moment, decided she was pretty and the husband was probably dead anyway, and chuffed politely to announce himself.

Waiting for something? Fable inquired when he was certain she wouldn't startle off her perch at the sound of his voice.

He was not a talented singer, but there was something about his rolling baritone that was charming, and moving, in its own way. This was a song with no name — one about seaspray and calling gulls and dancing the minuet. And he did dance it while he sang, waggling his brows once or twice at @Fable as he did.

The men had bonded quickly, if not quite so deeply yet as Sockeye often wished. He felt he'd found a companion in the much-younger man. The age difference was a little uncomfortable, but mainly it amused him even while he called himself a dog in his innermost thoughts. What did it matter? They weren't doing anything wrong.

Yet.

All told, he was happier than he'd been in months.

He trailed behind, mumbling the words to himself while he sniffed at some trail, and then Fable's voice called to him — no, to someone else! — and he hurried to catch up.

"Well," he said to himself, a laugh at the edge of his voice. Well, what do we have, here?

The girl's striking appearance left him otherwise speechless. He left it to Fable to speak to her, for now.

Tall ears swiveled at one cautious approach; in an instant, all of her attention was re-routed. A stranger, a fellow. His cape was draped in the autumnal shade of turning leaves, while his unders looked as if some flame had came and went. He was — objectively, mind you — beautiful.

A second set of eyes were upon her before the first query had reached her ears. They belonged to a man that reminded her of her father. Something inside of her that had been held firmly at-attention softened. She trusted him, whether it was wise or otherwise.

She recalled the question.

No, she replied simply. Are you?

Fable smiled at that. Yeah, but I think it'll be awhile, He stepped within a more conversational range of her then, settling to a sit with his tail swept neatly round his paws.

I'm Fable, He glanced to his companion. And this is Sockeye. You bird-watchin', then? There aren't so many here, but I know a few good places. Those coastal birds are real pretty sometimes.

He didn't really think she was looking for birds. Fable's eyes were earnest and innocent on her all the same.

Sockeye looked on in the way he often did, appearing amused and besotted by Fable's antics. It was just a normal conversation but it wasn't, and Sockeye thought maybe he loved him for it, just a little.

And when he looked at the girl, he thought, Aw. And that was it — Aw, and he was smitten. Why shouldn't he be? He'd spent a long time looking for his wife, and just look how that'd gone. He didn't have time to guard his heart the way he used to.

"Rosette spoonbills," he said, his tone bland. "You ever hear of them? Me neither, but this one says 'e seen 'em. What's a spoonbill even look like, I wonder?"

Glib. Innocent. But there was a glint in his eyes that said he knew he was an embarrassment and revelled in this fact.

She doesn't think to introduce herself, now distracted by father-man's fish-name. Her tail wags generously. Sockeye is a good fish!

It was impossible for her to receive a question as anything other than literal, as-stated. Tsunami did not realize that this boy was playing with her, and the earnestness in his eyes could have deceived her even if she was suspecting. No, she said again.

It would be humorous to reply again with, are you?. She realized this would most likely only humorous to herself, so she held her tongue despite her new creeping-vine smile. Not bird-watching. Looking at the island.

These men were full of questions. Two came from the man with eyes like twin suns, though he did not wait for an answer to the first before barreling onto the second. Yes, I have seen, she confirmed. large wading bird.