Wheeling Gull Isle east is up

@Fern

There was a heady warmth to everything at this time of year, and Mou could not recall the last time he had basked for so long in the rays of the sun, but when he tried to rise from his encampment he found himself unable to keep his footing. Thankfully he was being watched by @Reed — she rushed to his aid with a crabby little look — and soon enough, she had escorted him back to the shelter where he had spent most of his days. The shadows were like a cool balm to his skin.  Once deposited, the caretaker grumbled something about being more careful or maybe keeping out of the sun, and hurried off to her other duties, content with Mou's situation for the time being.

The boy was still groggy from the sun; perhaps she had gone to fetch him something cool to drink? In that instant, beneath the bleariness of the ebbing heat in his head and sleepiness brought on by the season, he thought he recalled a crab filled with water, and maybe even someone crying, but none of it made sense. It was a dreamy flash of nothingness, he presumed, for in moments he had forgotten again — likely just a trick of the mind brought on by his long stay in the sun.

Mou adjusted himself a little bit and felt a pinch to his soft sides, an ache to his hips, but was content in a few seconds. The moist air of the hollow was comforting and cool, and he now basked in the company of familiar herbs. He wondered vaguely if he would have any visitors today — since Reed had left him, Mou had to assume someone was watching over the entrance to his hideaway or perhaps the two medics were off collecting honey for his throat, he could not know for sure.

There was, oddly, the feeling that he was being watched, and as apprehension began to collect in him he felt a tightening to the muscles of his shoulders. There was a sound deeper in to the hideaway, along a wall just off his flank, but to turn too sharply would hurt him so Mou was left to wonder and to crawl on his belly, slowly making adjustments, until he could scour the greyness with his good eye for — well, whatever it was. He couldn't call out for help if such was needed, and resorted to airly huffing, as if that would get the attention to whatever had spooked him.

---

she'd picked her way into the strange wolf's den when it had been silent and unguarded, a feat that came with a fair amount of guilty pride. fern had scooted her way further into the den, realizing her mistake only when the den was empty (no wonder it had been unattended). her quick escape had been waylaid by the re-entrance of the man, and, frozen, she'd hunched up against a wall and stayed there.

reed seemed too preoccupied to notice her, yet her relief was short-lived when she was left alone with the strange, funny-smelling man. at once she was made guilt and more than a little nervous, but she reasoned she get out of the den by using the same stealth she'd seen the adults employ while hunting. 

odd little bounds on gangly limbs were stopped almost at once when the man shifted, shifted again, and she froze once more, ears pricked atop her tiny skull. she'd fall into the man's vision eventually, she reasoned, and chirped a quick "hallo" as she'd learned to do upon greeting another, gaze fluttering to the entrance as if a stern reed might appear there any moment.

As his eye adjusted to the darkness he could make out the familiar contours of the room, but it just so happened that the intruder (who he still did not realize was real) had crossed over in time with his eyeless side and so she was well hidden, at least until her little voice sprang forth from the dark. Mou's head did not move but his big ears twisted first, and then he adjusted both his straining neck and his shoulders so that he could better look upon the stranger without too much effort. He realized in moments that it was only a cub. The voice should have given so much away but he was still a bit dazed from his hours spent sunbathing and either way, it came as a surprise.

Any other wolf might have greeted the youngster or offered them a game, a story, something to appease and to teach; but as Mou opened his mouth to repeat the greeting he remembered his inability, and his mouth shut again with a click of teeth. He huffed a deep sigh that felt as if it went straight down to his twisting gut, and then let out an audible snort. He wondered if Reed would return and take this child with her — it occurred to him that he was bothered more-so by his failing to respond than the creature's presence, but either way he was made irritable.

He was left to watch the child for a moment and he saw, in that brief flicker of indecision, that the two of them shared a similar thought. They both wished to be rescued by Reed, and that set Mou off again. He was no child. He may have been gravely injured once, but he could sweep this child to the entrance if he so wished — this was his space, after all.

But he was merely being surly and petulant, and when he tried to stand and take a step towards the bundle of fluff, he felt his hip give way and a sharp pain which buckled his legs and made him gasp in the dark. He sank to his belly again, having gotten no closer to the cub, and turned his attention away sheepishly.

---

he moves awkwardly, almost as strangely as the newest pups that do little more than squirm and fall over each other. as soon as she made the connection, the wolf wasn't very scary in the least; he was one of the newborns, but big. the puppy-wolf huffed, and her salmon-pink tongue flicked out over her lips in thought, muddled blue gaze watching him with sharp focus. 

the male attempted to stand; just like the pups, his legs didn't seem strong enough, and he dropped back down with a gasp that had her suddenly worried. she'd picked up quickly on the general fuss made about the pups; there was always a mom or a dad there to watch them, care for them. yet there was none here beside her, and as soon as the male turned away, a soft and careful "uh oh" filled the small space. 

suddenly made bold, she picked her way towards him, clambering carefully onto his shoulders, placing a few careful licks atop his head, as she'd seen Seelie and Reigi do a dozen times over. "ok?" she questions, voice lilting and careful, tiny paws digging into his ruff.

There was quiet for a few moments while Mou sulked and waited for his pain to ebb away, as it always did. He thought of scouring the floor for any lost seeds but there wasn't time, because there was quite suddenly, a scrambling body using him as a climbing apparatus. At first he was inclined to react as if struck, expecting pain from the cub's claws and chubby body, but in fact the cub was quite light — and Mou was more surprised by the child's sudden presence and contact, not so much her scrambling for stability across his back. He found himself sitting as still as possible so that she would not fall or harm herself.

He could feel her little tongue grazing at the fur between his ears, which fanned out on either side like dark butterfly wings from his pale head. 

OK? she peeped.

Ck— he replied from the back of his throat without thinking, trying to say the sound back at her. He couldn't do the first part, but the second — the crackling sound of "ck" as in "oak" — wasn't difficult. It did surprise him to hear the sound though, expecting nothing to come from the effort.

Mou still did not want to move, especially with the child on his scruff since she could tumble pretty far, but his ears pivoted back and he felt the edge of one graze at her softly. Whatever had bothered him before had lifted; he felt renewed to a degree, curious of this small one and softened by her easy company.

 

---

the male was still beneath her careful attention, tail wagging carefully behind her when he made a sound she decided was an affirmative. she repeated it softly, chirping it out off the tip of her tongue. ears pivoted back and graze her, and her jaws opened to tug at them as she did to stockholm's odd little tufts, but more often at seelie's temping dark ones. but she could not! it was wrong, she realized, and her jaws shut abruptly as she picked herself off of his scruff. 

she padded over to his face and sat beside it, peering over his brow at the missing eye, scarred and furrowed. he couldn't make much sense of his face, yet she didn't much mind. blinking, she expelled the air from her lungs in a huff, peering once at the den entrance as if an upset Reed might appear at any moment.  "'ood." she proclaimed, peering at his good eye and wondering if he made any other sounds.

There were a few awkward moments between which the cub slipped from his nape, hitting the dusty floor neatly before settling at his side. He feels her eyes upon him—maybe it is his imagination—but the fur of his neck stands on-end for a breath, and he turns to look at her, but finds he cannot meet her gaze. The boy does recognize a sense of wonder in her expression and it makes him feel strange—embarrassed, spotlighted, perhaps even freakish.

She speaks, or at the very least makes a noise. He lowers so that his head is at her level and his hawkish eye trains upon her, but then it mists and he looks through her. He does not know what an ood is, but he entertains her all the same by attempting to parrot the sound back: Oo-t, he says, finding the sharp sound easier to make with his teeth, like the crackling of before.

Strange, though, that a cub would be the one to revive his conversation skills.

 

---

tail moved behind her once more when the sound was repeated, gaze trained on the hawkish eye that, a moment ago, was turned toward her. she doesn't pick up on the way that it mists over, much too interested in his face as a whole to focus on his eye for long. abruptly, she flattens onto the cool floor, head atop her paws as she watched him, rear limbs spread out behind. "fern." she announced this after a stretch of silence, carefully pronounced lest she confuse the syllables, as she often tended to. it hung in the air a moment perfect and whole, and a smile stretched across her muzzle and she looked to him expectantly, quite proud.

She's certainly a cute little thing, and he cannot help but be charmed by her efforts to make a new friend. Maybe that's not what she's doing though—maybe he's just awkward as hell (which isn't far from the truth) and even a child can tell. Either way, they're having some kind of conversation and his ears flip about, eager to catch more sounds and try to repeat them.

Her name comes next, or he assumes as much. Fern. It's fitting, he thinks.

Fff, Mou starts, Fff—ffern, It helps that her name is composed of easily pronounced sounds. He feels a sense of accomplishment once he's said it, and repeats it with a smile on his lips, Fern! But then he pauses, realizing a little too late that he can't exactly introduce himself. Everyone refers to him as Mou, but he can't say it.

He tries anyways, and manages to wheeze, Mmm, Mmuh, almost like he's trying to say mom, but he comes off sounding like a zombie or even Shelley's monster, Frankenstein.