Wheeling Gull Isle sea fever

The soft huff of King’s laughter melted the tension from Coelacanth’s gamine frame, and her cerulean eyes half-closed with shy contentment. Her expression was warm and open as she listened to his troubles, and she leaned forward with a trembling muzzle to lick comfortingly at his cheek. He was sad, and who could blame him? Her heart swelled with compassion for the young wolf. Seelie was an active listener, and her Neptune eyes momentarily forgot their shyness as they drank in every shift of his handsome countenance.

Tufted ears stood at eager attention as King confessed his uncertainties and insecurities, and then Coelacanth decided to take action. If he wanted direction, she would help him — she was no leader, but she knew there were things that needed to be done. She bathed his face in kisses, whining her fervent encouragement, and backed away with him with a pointed quirk of her muzzle and a few suggestive bounces in the opposite direction. “Come with me!” she bade him, and when he made to follow she led him toward the activities she was familiar with: fishing, digging caches, and marking borders. In particular, she begged for his help moving a fallen log away from the mouth of a small cave simply because she wished to see what was behind it, and they toiled side by side for the greater part of the afternoon — only to discover that the cave, while interesting-smelling, possessed nothing of value.

They were dirty and bedraggled when their adventure came to an anticlimactic close, but as King returned to Cascada and Seelie to Komodo, they were both feeling better.