Wheeling Gull Isle the protectorate of seelholm

@Moorhen, aside from being much taller than Coelacanth remembered, was also much more affectionate — and vocal! Sometimes it was difficult to match the reticent little seashell with the beautiful, capable she-wolf she had become, but the sheepdog wouldn’t have it any other way. Anyway, having some muscle on her side was certainly a plus — and the fact that Moorhen seemed to want to hang out even when the rest of the pack was asleep was an added bonus. Seelie still didn’t really like sleeping. She had nightmares more often than not, and instead of trying to isolate and deal with the feelings that triggered them, she simply…didn’t sleep. She worked.

Like a dog.

The moon was nowhere to be seen, but Coelacanth lifted her head at the sight of an eerie blue glow in the distance. Nosing at her lamb, she pointed toward it with a curious tilt of her head and boofed softly, disengaging from the warm press of Stockholm and Moorhen and padding cautiously toward it. It seemed to be coming from some previously hidden cleft in the stone to the north of where the trio made their bed. She wanted to explore it — did Moorhen want to come?