Trying to keep the remaining puppies imprisoned on Wheeling Gull Isle was stupid — and impossible. Seelie and Stockholm were not the only ones who had lost someone; Mur, Fern, Grayling, @Sixgill, and @Koi missed their tenderhearted sister. Hemlock, Fern, and Mur had returned early in the morning from a sweep of the mainland to the south, and Stockholm and Grayling were due any minute to return from a search of the southeast, following the river further inland. (Seelie still wasn’t fond of the Ravenwood and tried to avoid it at every opportunity.) The clues were always the same: Thresher was assumed alive, and she appeared to be clinging to the coast. Despite their grief, the little treasure’s parents couldn’t help but smile:
“Well, she’s a Corten; that’s for sure,” Hemlock had quipped upon her return, offering a sorely needed injection of levity to the pack, most especially the deeply despondent Groenendael and her Gampr. Now Seelie perched at the water’s edge, head tipped inquisitively as she pinned down the darkening of the misted horizon with concern in her eyes. The water level was getting higher, and the waves rougher. Yesterday’s high tide had swallowed the sandbar, and there was an electric crackle in the air that didn’t smell right. The worsening weather awakened a spark of urgency in the Athelas that she had transmitted to the other guardians almost automatically. Though she’d stepped down from her rank officially, many of the pack members still thought of her (perhaps undeservingly) as Undersea’s heart — a leading voice.
Sixgill crouched at her left, Koi at her right, as they awaited the Volkodav’s return — and when it came, she nosed lovingly at her mate and eagerly received his report: Thresher had been near the river recently, but hadn’t seemed to venture as far inland as Seelie’d feared. That being said, if the tiny sheepwolf had traveled through the river shallows, her scent would have been lost anyway. It wasn’t exactly groundbreaking news, but it was something. Anything was better than nothing at all, and with a soft nuzzle to her mate’s cheek, Seelie crossed the landbridge and made her first journey to the mainland since delivering Maegi to Blackfeather Woods.
“Well, she’s a Corten; that’s for sure,” Hemlock had quipped upon her return, offering a sorely needed injection of levity to the pack, most especially the deeply despondent Groenendael and her Gampr. Now Seelie perched at the water’s edge, head tipped inquisitively as she pinned down the darkening of the misted horizon with concern in her eyes. The water level was getting higher, and the waves rougher. Yesterday’s high tide had swallowed the sandbar, and there was an electric crackle in the air that didn’t smell right. The worsening weather awakened a spark of urgency in the Athelas that she had transmitted to the other guardians almost automatically. Though she’d stepped down from her rank officially, many of the pack members still thought of her (perhaps undeservingly) as Undersea’s heart — a leading voice.
Sixgill crouched at her left, Koi at her right, as they awaited the Volkodav’s return — and when it came, she nosed lovingly at her mate and eagerly received his report: Thresher had been near the river recently, but hadn’t seemed to venture as far inland as Seelie’d feared. That being said, if the tiny sheepwolf had traveled through the river shallows, her scent would have been lost anyway. It wasn’t exactly groundbreaking news, but it was something. Anything was better than nothing at all, and with a soft nuzzle to her mate’s cheek, Seelie crossed the landbridge and made her first journey to the mainland since delivering Maegi to Blackfeather Woods.
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