Wheeling Gull Isle let my imagination run away with you gladly

Tufted ears popped into view like twin periscopes moments before Coelacanth crested a small knoll, her delicate paws navigating the undulating terrain with ease. At first, her Neptune eyes were sharp with possessive circumspection — but when she drew near enough to see the gentle smile that shaped Aditya’s mouth, she relaxed. Horses, like sheep, were meant to be protected. Aside from their heavy hooves — which were to be avoided at all costs! — they seemed utterly defenseless, and therefore in need of sheltering. Seelie considered these horses hers, and although they did not trust her enough to let her near, neither did they seek to grind her into the earth like a snake.

She searched for the word and tried to remember its shape, but her teeth and tongue did not know it, and she gave Aditya an answer that was becoming somewhat typical. Sketching an apology with a cowed dip of her slender muzzle, “Stockholm,” she suggested in a breathlike whisper, “Cat.” She didn’t know whether the Spiritwalker had ever seen horses before, but they’d made appearances in many of Kirynnae’s stories. At any rate, the Gampr would easily fill in the blanks.

Leaning up to accommodate for the vast difference in height, Seelie licked tenderly at the male’s cheek and traced a meandering path up the winterbarren veldt. Someday, the prairie would bloom again; and when it did, she hoped the Morningsiders would stay for a long visit. A glance over one inkdark shoulder urged Aditya to follow. She would show him the horses’ cove and take him to meet the dark sentinel. “Do not be afraid,” bespoke her reassuring whuff, combined with her relaxed posture and the inquisitive set of her oversized ears as she trotted a few paces forward.