Wheeling Gull Isle chichplei

bartholomew was staying. blueberry had said she would help to raise the young ones heda meant to give in the spring.
she was nervous, her mind flickering between her mentor and thoughts of sobo, whom mireille had suggested.
she thought of her friend then, wondering if she too would leave to look for — someone.
there was no sign of kacia. heda refused to be hopeful that bartholomew would turn to anyone else.
she wandered up to the greenhills in prayer.

forgive all assumptions will edit anything <33 

what wonderful songs those of the isle knew! he'd hear them sometimes, find their traces when they came to the mainland. pleasant landmark for the bard to pass in his repeating travels, плимска језерца to кршевина and back!

these days he stayed near, yet, as much as he turned his ears to the sea - from the isle came not a note, not even a sound.

fish still fresh in his belly, the bard had only curiosity to blame when he saw waters retreat from the sand bridge,

and without a thought, made to cross it.

[...]

there were scents, scattered as they were. his guess was stragglers or vagrants like him; hungry ones, come to claim the island's bounty. 

but they could still tell a story, solve a mystery. slavo proceeded on deeper in, nose to the ground, following a recent trail.

where the land turned hilly, he found a pawprint. fresh. slavo lifted his head, to trough the gaps in his tassels try and spy its maker.

they were as if poured out of sunlight, 

rimmed by the star they faced. along their back ran a stripe of a richer hue, spreading over their shoulders. their back to him, they remained quiet and still as if praying.

all of it, the light, the cross, the framing- 

slavuj had to admit, it was quite angelic.

he'd gone mute and open-mawed at some point. a bug saw its opportunity for a glorious kill, and flew straight into his windpipe.

the bard wheezed and went into an unflattering coughing fit.

i love it lol best intro ever! <3

salt, suspended in gossamer cobwebs across brow and shoulders and eartip and throat, glittering as it caught the coastal sunlight and reflected it back at the — man? she turned but was not startled; her golden eyes watched the dog come closer.
the visage of bartholomew had been the first to soothe her. and then the woman who died and was reborn, who wore the face of a bear.
now this canine, swinging in layers like odd, knotted white kelp. and he was choking.
heda bounded down to help him, to strike between where she thought his shoulders must be!

absolute best intro lmao <3

as brave mayfly invaded his trachea, the bard wondered what kind of limerick one could make of this. a cautionary tale woven into a poem of a man felled by a lesser thing!

but just as a concerned thought - wait i might die of this - came to the forefront, between his shoulder blades, trough layers of cords, his gangly body felt a powerful blow - sending dear deceased mayfly out.

slavuj heaved. it had got him good. long legs gave out, and he thudden to his side. 

some resemblance of good rhythm returning to his chest, the man rolled onto his back, thus coming to a powerful realisation.

he'd been rescued by a heavensent being.

he stared breathless (still) at the beautiful, golden-eyed visage.

"анћеле..." whispered as before an icon.

a bug jetted wetly from his throat. the man fell over and then began to recover himself. heda hovered close, one paw upon his shoulder. 
she did not know his language.
"this is sweetharbor," the young advisor told the man. "i'm heda. are you all right?" strange, the way he gazed at her in rapt wideness.

it took the words a bit to find their way trough mental circuits rewired to awe.

but they reached him, eventually.

"kuh-rist." slavuj woofed, slightly more conscious of the situation. "yeau pack ae wallop, mis!"

he heaved himself into a sit, tassels spilling over him. still he raised a paw to keep them from his face, so that he might look at his saviour as was proper.

she was wolf of average size and atheltic build
she was a seasalt she-saint, eyes filled with a soft worry for him, the fur whence her paw had touched feeling holy as the diamond eye of a christian mummy. he was caught between hesitancy and dreamlike wish.

"...ah! swit-arbor?" slavuj looked around, as if he'd been airdropped there instead of walking on own feet. "oh!" and he rose onto all fours, despite there still being a wobble in how he stood.

"mai apolojies, mis heh-dah." his tongue tested the name. "yeau are pak has lived here fram at'um, yes?"

his accent was heavy and hard to parse. but heda was determined. she learned first, at once, that he was what bartholomew might say was a man with heavy sins, taking the name of the lord in vain so swiftly.
god had brought him here, she felt. "it's all right." did he speak of their rebirth or disbandment? "we've been here a while," she said, smiling with a tinge of apology. "what is your name?"
she glanced up toward the greenhills again, toward the trajectory of the sun. "are you in need of help?" the advisor pressed on, her gilt eyes flicking over him for any signs of injury.

heda.

the name tasted firm and strong on his lips. it befit an earthbound angel.

"славуј." he spoke simply. then, his teeth showed in a full grin.

"dat's slah-vooy, for yeaur speak-ing."

"ouh, nou nou nou." his cords swayed as he shook his head, still grinning. "ai joo nout vish tchu be ae burden! aend, again, apolojies mis, for inchrudering." he dipped his head.

"bat, yeaur pak, ai-" and the bard stepped away, now speaking with enthusiasm, as if on a stange. "-heard deir sing-ing, sou many daeys! such beauchiful songs, so familiar tchu mi, such joy in jem! aend... then..." 

his enthusiasm waned, tail and head lowered. slavuj looked back at his angel.

"kwai-et! liek deaf dag's w'rld." slavuj turned fully and again approached the wolf. an eye showed between a parting in tassels, full of feeling. "tchell mi, mis heda, vhat sigh-lanced yeaur choir?"

the more this sla-vooy spoke, the more heda understood. she was happy to walk with him then, eyeing as surreptitiously as she could the way his odd fur swung to and fro. "you're no intrusion, slavuj," heda said, stumbling a little over the unfamiliar syllables. "we were always a small flock. if you lose too many at once," and here she shrugged her shoulders.
heda was unsure if bartholomew wanted to rebuild. she wasn't even certain she wanted to put the work in, maybe not until they had more than before. but god would show them the way.
slavuj spoke very passionately of their songs. heda found herself grinning. "are you a singer too?"

still hiatusing, just trying to chip away at my threadlogs <3

"vhat sadness!" were his reply to miss heda's simple shrug. "ough, vhat heartbreak dat'd be tchu mi! yeau are great voman, tchu be firm liek stone dis island iz ouf." trough the tilt of his cords, slavuj's gaze was sincere and strong.

"yeau vill make choir again, mis heda, ai know sou."

"mi, ae singer?" slavuj's paw rose in mock insult, pausing his amble alongside the woman. "vhy, is gull ae flyer? fish ae swimmer?" he chuckled heartily, continuing.

"yea, dis dag can holl'r. bat, un-four-tchu-nat-eh-lee," and slavuj tilted his head towards her, humorous. "vhen gad vas share-ing songs, he taught th' volves first, den let dags figure it demselves!"

slavuj continued to speak in the thick musicality of his guttural accent, but heda was starting to parse it more easily. she laughed at the self-deprecating joke, heart buoyed by his praise and encouragement in the renewal of sweetharbor.
"oh, i know a fine singer who isn't really a wolf," heda smirked sidelong at her friend. "he has the most beautiful voice when he sings to god."
thinking of bartholomew pressed a beatific light over her alabastrine countenance, the look of a devoted nun's acolyte who has seen the striking face of a priest who will never look in her direction.

every step he'd try and steal a glance. sun no longer embraced her quite so reverently, but slavuj found miss heda all the more angelic. 

( on either shoulder of his she could perch, ivory and gemstone beauty, and both sin and virtue from her lips would sway him equally! )

and when she spoke of this friend, this god-loving he, how such an inner light shone trough her! beneath the veil the komondor softened, near tearful with admiration for how she admired another.

"ah, ai vould liek tchu meet dis singer." he hummed, sincere.

slavuj's eyes then saw what the hills rolled down to - the shore he landed on what must be eons ago. he knew soon, the hospitality for a vagrant would be spent, and with great intensity he turned to miss heda anew.

"mis, if dere is anything yeau - swit-arbor - need," wind pulled his tassels away; her eyes were only on her. "tchell mi. ai aem sing'r, bat ai ken fish, ken hunt gull aend find muss'l."

had they hands, he would've clasped his about hers.

"ai vould liek nothing more then hear dis choir again." slavuj grinned.

heda looked at slavuj then, and truly saw him; past the sand-stained cordage of long fur and bright eyes and heavy accent to the goodness she knew and sensed was in him. "why don't you stay, friend," she heard herself saying, and was glad for it.
"be part of sweetharbor." her paw touched his own; her smile was genuine light into his charming face. "you can meet him, bartholomew; you can sing with us there, collect mussels, hunt gulls. fish."
she hoped he would! as fiercely and fervently as she hoped any would stay. slavuj belonged in sweetharbor.