Sea Lion Shores 1957

The sheepdog tipped her tapered muzzle down and away from the pale sylph, who savored the ice-encrusted berry and then pled for understanding, turning toward her forest home. Doglike, Coelacanth pouted, for everyone had left her — and although they had their reasons, each of them legitimate, she desperately needed someone to stay. More than food, Seelie fed upon the approval, affection, and acceptance of others — and for long months, she had been starved of these things. Her Neptune gaze was luminous as she looked up at Olive, the sulky push of her lips smoothing gradually into a gentle, encouraging smile. Shyly, she crossed the distance and laid her own berry at the grayscale nymph’s paws, hesitating only momentarily before stretching out a timorously quivering muzzle. If the Teaghlaigh female would allow it, Coelacanth would press the wet of her nose against one slender shoulder in an emotive gesture meant to bolster and soothe. Then she turned and made her own departure, catlike paws moving hurriedly to follow her king and queen.