Wheeling Gull Isle santeria

Okay, so, “big ears” is officially one of my favorite nicknames for Seelie.

The little stray had all but decided to make her escape. It was better that way. Safer. A furtive turn of her head lent the angakkuq a glimpse of her delicate profile, markedly different from the full-blooded wolves who inhabited these wilds, and betrayed her inclination to flee. “Easy, big ears,” the medicine man murmured, and the inspiration for that term of address was again brought to the forefront as the “big ears” in question folded uncertainly and sprang forward with a timid shimmy of the lost dog’s half-submerged hindquarters. Strangely ensnared by the husky steadiness of his voice, she found herself rooted to the spot — and her Neptune eyes bore a sliver of whalebone white as she glanced nervously awry. His wordless appraisal of her made her nervous; she was nobody’s dog and nobody’s daughter. What could he possibly want with her?

“Do you remember me…”

The waif’s denial was automatic, her slim, tapered muzzle dipping apologetically as she shook her head.

“…Coelacanth?”

The inkdark vagrant — Coelacanth — backpedaled furiously, reeling under the force of her shock, uncharacteristically graceless. She did remember — suddenly, irrevocably — and her lissome limbs buckled, churning up sand and seawater as a glowing cloud of dinoflagellates billowed blue around her. Before her stood the Earthstalker — a wolf who had been integral in Riptide’s successful recovery from injury the previous year. Seelie had been only about six months old at the time, but she’d been old enough to know that without Komodo, Riptide might not have survived. It had taken all of Kirynnae and Komodo’s combined efforts to restore Corten’s son to good health despite his robust constitution. The shaman had been an unexpected ally in a dark and frightening time, and — just like now — his timing had been impeccable.

“Komodo,” she thought, recognition blooming fully in her shimmering cerulean gaze, accompanied by a bashful flutter of her sumi-e brush tail — but the joy she felt crumpled beneath the weight of the past ten months. They were heavy, relentless months, filled with loss after loss after loss — one of which would perhaps be noticeable to the angakkuq. She and Amoxtli had always been inseparable, but the embodiment of yin was all darkness without the sunshine her willowy Tervuren twin had brought to her life.

The tiny Groenendael cross ghosted nearer, dainty paws emerging from the shallows to take residence on the soft, almond-colored sand. It was Marbas’ island, but she would forgive the Earthshaker. She wanted badly to be comforted, but she remained where she stood with her wordless lips atremble and new tears gathering in her pelagic eyes. A tilt of her delicate head asked what her voice could not: why are you here?