Wheeling Gull Isle bermuda, bahama; come on, pretty mama

Despite the hazy cloud of exhaustion, hunger, and sadness that seems to blanket his thoughts like a heavy fog, curiousity flickers in his eyes as Coelacanth takes a tenative step foward towards him. In his homeland, his interactions with other canines had been scarce with the exception of interlopers he drove off from the flocks he guarded. He had learnt early on how to exist in solitude, to think independently and be self sufficent. But that seemed like such a very long time ago. Things were different with the Man.

Seelie takes another step forward, ears cupped towards him and alert, so very focused on him and he hasn't a clue why. This time, he is the interloper. The stranger who should, by all rights, be unwelcome in this place.. wherever this place is. She should be trying to chase him off, shouldn't she? But her movements are non threatening and despite the intensity woven throughout her body her posture is almost welcoming. She is a mystery to him.

Maybe she is lost, too.

And that thought helps pull him from the mental fog more than anything else. Perhaps because it is easier to focus on something -- or someone -- else other than his own sorrows. He dips his head down and extends his neck, putting them almost nose-to-nose, and draws in her scent while allowing her to do the same. The Man was gone, he could no longer look after him and protect him. But he could protect her.