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

The pan of her ears and the way she tips her muzzle down speaks volumes to him when she tells him her human-given name. Stockholm had loved the Man, and the Man had never laid a hand on him to cause harm, but that didn't mean he hadn't witnessed the way other men treated their dogs -- everything in the gamut from the mutual affection he and the Man shared, to cruel and unwarranted punishment for no apparent reason at all. He did not like to think of someone treating the lithe shadow that way, it made the hackles ruffle slightly between his shoulder blades, but he knows it is in the past and not even he can protect her from that.  

The soft smile that crosses her features as they reach the tide pools smooths his proverbial ruffled feathers though and he watches as she gestures with her paw, his brows arching upwards before it clicks with him what she wants. He gives a silent nod and departs from her side to circle around the pool, wet sand giving way under his paws as he steps into the shallow water, dragging his feet a bit as he first enters to stir up the fish then trotting in a semi-circle opposite of Seelie with a slightly exaggerated gait to disrupt the water and send the fish in her direction.