Wheeling Gull Isle resist

Coelacanth did her best to accommodate for her lamb’s taller, sturdier stature; while Moorhen lurched forward and attempted to burrow under her, Seelie did her best to stretch herself to her full height. She was able at least to groom the banded female from this vantage point, draping one spindly forelimb over the girl’s wildly jerking, heaving shoulders as she smoothed the fur atop her crown. “Shh,” she whispered as soothingly as she could, a low, rhythmic purring humming tunelessly in her throat. Though she had always loved Moorhen, Julep, and Isengrim, her mannerisms this time around felt different somehow. Maternal. She wondered what had distressed the seashell so!

Shadow fussed over the little girl who now dwarfed her in size and marveled at the passage of time. How tall and lovely Moorhen had become! Her own airy whines spilled against the girl’s nape; she was sorry and proud and sad and joyful and worried and relieved all at once.