Wheeling Gull Isle nemiyon

heda dreamed.
in this landscape, she became gold-dust misting and encircled her island, far more quickly than on her own legs. she raced upward, upward, toward the opening arms of the sun, icarus flying toward the greatness of an orb that would not this time melt her blossoming wings.
the cascade of heat filled her; arteries, bones, veins, skin, consuming her with a sweetening ecstasy that she knew must be the glowing from the very gates of heaven.
heda opened her eyes to a new day, and to find that the very glittering of the sun was stamped into her entire flesh. she felt made of gilded motes, of seafoam. awed, she wandered trancelike to the edge of the greenhills and looked out over the eternal sea.
the salt-spray air, festooned now with the curious and delicate hinting that hovered in an aura unknown around heda.
when @Caracal found her, she would be lifting one limb and then the other, gazing in rapture at her own forelegs as if she could see how her blood had turned to molten gold, knowing that her own ribcage now housed the very heart of god.
rapturous. reverent.

Caracal’s lips pursed as he stared at the mainland, devoid of any familiar faces. He drew in a deep breath, then let it out on a sigh. He turned, walking along the beach a while before deciding to head to the forest edging the island. He found a seabirds’ nest on the ground at the foot of a tree, perhaps knocked down by the temperamental winds as the seasons prepared to change. There were four eggs tucked inside it, two of them intact.

He devoured the two cracked ones, shells and all, then carefully rolled the remaining pair into his mouth. They clicked against his teeth as Caracal headed toward The Greenhills, eager to deliver breakfast to Heda but moving slowly on account of his precious cargo.

He found her at the crest of a slope, where the views were the most splendid. Caracal stopped and dropped his head, gently depositing the eggs in the dry grass near her feet. He smiled at his successful delivery, then raised his head to behold Heda as she looked down at herself in wonder. He cocked his head and smiled.

Morning! I brought you— he began to say when the scent finally hit him.

heda did not think she had ever felt closer to god. it was he — or her — they, this unseen entity, which now had created so vibrant a sensation within her that it almost felt as if she had been lying fallow until this moment.
when she turned, it was to see caracal. his expression was not something she understood, but his attentiveness to her had never gone unnoticed. heda felt as if she were floating, scarcely feeling the haptic feathering of the grass beneath her paws.
"god has blessed me with a presence," the young wolf said with stirring prayerfulness, glancing to the skies as if they might open with the sunwarmed light of that dreamscape sun.
and then her eyes were on caracal, on his features, on the handsome swell of his muscular shoulders and the way his cheekbones often sharpened in a grin, one she did not see now.
"i prayed. i dreamed." heda's voice was a whisper, as she found she could not look away from him, enthralled, transfixed by some unsaid notion that began a slow syrupy coiling in her belly.

He had smelled it before, on other she-wolves, though he’d never been this up close and personal with someone in heat. Caracal gulped, just barely stifling the impulse to inhale deeply. His mouth started to water, which was kind of weird.

It was a little difficult to focus, so he held his breath as Heda spoke. She mentioned a presence, then prayers and dreams. Caracal emptied his lungs with a quiet whoosh and tried to ignore the lust humming in his veins.

Tell me about it, he urged her, even though a baser part of him wanted a little less conversation, a little more action, please.

heda laughed, spinning in a semi-circle. "i dreamed i was made of sunlight!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "and then when i woke up, i was."
desire met caracal's in that moment, though heda would not recognize it as such, only an extension of what she had felt before, this sundering, soaring feeling.
something flickered behind the golden light of her eyes — want — and she lifted her chin with a daring rarely felt, not since the caribou.
"marry me. marry me now, caracal. here," she tossed a paw toward the island at large, "in front of sweetharbor and god."
breathless, heart racing, thrumming, humming.

Her mood was infectious, no doubt because of the heady pheromones swirling around them both. But seeing Heda happy always made him feel glad, no matter what she smelled like. Caracal’s eyes danced as he watched her spin. A loud puff of laughter escaped him.

Today I learned sunshine smells fantastic, he said, giving in for a moment and drawing her fragrance deep into his lungs.

His heart skipped a beat—possibly even several—at Heda’s next words. Caracal gazed at her, expression guileless. He knew the hormones were likely the catalyst for this moment, though it wasn’t as if it was a hasty or impulsive decision otherwise. They had been cruising toward this destination all along.

In response to her exclamatory proposal, he sprang at her, wrapping his forelegs around her and then kissing every part of her he could reach: her forehead, the corners of her eyes, her cheekbones, her jaw, her neck.

Yeah, he exhaled into the curve of her neck, then chuckled and rocked her, crooning, You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know, dear… He drew back to peck her on the tip of her nose. How much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away…

heda felt tears sting the corners of her eyes as caracal began to sing; a little informal sound of surprise and glee escaped her throat.
she danced with him, burying muzzle against the side of his throat. and it occurred to heda then that she had not thought of bartholomew once.
except for now, she noted to herself with an amusement that became wonderment, to be free at last of her cloying love for her mentor.
"your sunshine," heda whispered in a voice rocky with a thousand emotions; her eyes at last surrendered their tears, which ran down her face but did not evoke grief.
"is that it?" she asked deliriously a moment later, laughing again. were they married now? her eyes searched his own.

My sunshine, he murmured against her throat, teeth pressing ever so gently into the tendon there when her scent stole his breath again.

When he drew back a moment later and saw tears in her eyes, Caracal frowned. Had he hurt her? There was nothing upset about her expression, though. Perhaps these were happy tears.

Nonetheless, he kissed them away before moving back again at her question. He didn’t know if there was some sort of ritual to this. He just assumed they made the vow to one another. Perhaps they could—no, should—do something to commemorate it.

Would you like to do anything special to mark the occasion, he asked, smiling softly as he tacked on, wifey?

There was one thing he could think of that would be a very fitting way to celebrate, though Caracal was still doing his best to resist her siren call. Surely she would be in the mood to consummate their marriage at some point, though he hadn’t forgotten her boundaries. It was hard (lol) but he intended to respect them and wait for Heda to initiate.

yes, heda wanted to say, and her shy mind flitted away from it all the same, even as a tiny surprised sound of pleasure escaped her throat at caracal's touch. unsure what to do with the massive gathering of sensitive passions that seemed to jam inside her, heda cleared her throat and looked toward the stretch of ocean.
"i want —" voice trailing thoughtfully.
"i want to decide on a last name for us, caracal," heda said brightly, leaning forward to press his cheek with a warm kiss that lingered. "something that — something that involves our home."
her heart raced, to be so close; ears slanting but eyes still filled with a glowing hope, even as she tried to ignore the very pull of her figure to his own.

What, he joshed her without missing a beat, you mean you don’t want to be Mrs Redhawk, after all?

He pretended to pout for all of three seconds before huffing another laugh. It was strange to think of shedding Redhawk, though perhaps he could just scoot it to the middle. And as far as a new surname went, he wasn’t picky. He wondered if Heda had any more specific ideas.

I’m down with whatever you choose for us, Caracal said, his stomach doing a happy little flip-flop as he smacked a kiss on her cheek.

He supposed they could take Sweetharbor or maybe even Wheeling Gull (maybe Wheelingull?). That thought prompted another, hilariously invasive thought. Caracal started cracking up.

Picture this, he said, sotto voce, moving away so he could sweep his arms across the vista. We could be… the Wheelers!

it was all so — absurd! in a way, wasn't it? heda grinned as caracal continued with his beautiful theatrics, though she could tell he was taken with the idea. "i'll be redhawk too," she amended, ears cupping forward as he spoke of the wheelers.
heda giggled helplessly with him, and then realized that the surname and subsequent discussion mattered far less than the instinct she had to press her body against that of his own, taken by the sun and sea and his laugh and the firm, loyal heartbeat she felt she could hear leaping in his chest.
"we could keep talking about it," mouth dry;
"later."
heda wanted to know what was happening to her, but was too giddy to seek answers to questions she had never asked. her eyes darkened with want now; pulse tripping.
"i'm your wife," she murmured huskily; disbelieving, believing, and this time she did wait for caracal to kiss her properly.

Heda promptly tabled the conversation. Caracal gave an indignant squawk, then winked at her right before her gravity drew him back in again, like the moon tugging on the tides. But she was the sun, so what did that make him? Caracal inwardly rolled his eyes and stopped thinking about metaphors.

You are, he agreed in a happy murmur, peppering her neck and shoulder with kisses.

And from there, he couldn’t resist. She smelled so good. Caracal trailed kisses, licks and nips down her shoulder blade, sent a letter to her heart. His own heart thrummed in his chest as his nose skimmed down her ribs. When he reached her hip, he nibbled tenderly at the flesh beneath her pale fur.

Despite telling himself to yield a moment ago, he suddenly moved back to put his face close to hers, whispering huskily, I want to make love with you, sunshine. Can we?

ALL THESE LINKS <333 feel free to timeskip or fade

make love.
heda could not say she had ever heard the words before, but the implication of them jarred her breath, gilt eyes flying wide for a moment before she averted them with a virginal sheepishness.
her chest seemed as if it were filled with galloping hooves. she glanced back toward their neat little den at the peak of the greenhills, and then around at the wild land which surrounded she and caracal, the dome of blue sky above and the grey-blue sea encircling the richness of sweetharbor.
he touched her in a way she had not before; whispering in a voice she had not heard before; heda shut her eyes and leaned back against him, tonguetip touching his lips in something not quite chaste but without force.
unable to speak, she only nodded, trembling in a good sort of way.
the expression in her face now, a reassurance, trust that he would guide her through this event horizon with the gentility she needed.

He felt a pang of guilt for asking when he’d meant to leave the ball entirely in Heda’s court. He just couldn’t quite help himself. His wife was, in a word, irresistible.

She nodded, though he could tell that she was nervous. Caracal was more excited than anything—that little dip of her head did things to him—but he was a little anxious too. He’d never done this before. He had a vague idea of what to do but he wanted to make sure it was as pleasant for the Mrs as he knew it would be for him.

Don’t worry, we’ll be awkward, fumbling virgins together, he quipped, nudging at her with an elbow before tucking a reassuring kiss behind her ear.

As much as Caracal wanted to take her right then and there, he bumped his hip against hers and then motioned forward with his vulpine snout. He led Heda downhill, toward the field of lavenders. They wouldn’t bloom until later in the spring—right around the time she bore pups, should they conceive today—but it was one of her favorite places, where she might feel the most comfortable.

When they arrived, Caracal turned to face her. He thought about checking in with her about what this likely meant: they would not just consummate their union, they would likely create life! That was kind of a big deal. But they’d already established that they wanted to be parents, so he decided they could discuss it afterward.

For now, he resumed showering her with affection, every kiss more sensual than the last. She was right. She was the sun at the center of his universe, the source of all things good and light in his world. He was right too. God was a girl and her name was Heda Wheeler.

I went for the fade, though I’d love a followup soon!