Sea Lion Shores What immortal hand or eye

Coelacanth continued to make a fuss at the shoreline until it seemed the pinnipeds had grown desensitized to her antics. Before she could select a new weapon of mass distraction, though, the cream-and-caramel female began making her move. “Watch this!” she seemed to say, a mischievous grin splitting her maw as her honey-bright eyes twinkled intently; and Seelie was all too happy to do just that, dropping to her belly in a sphinx-like crouch. “Go for it!” she encouraged wordlessly, a low, excited whuff puffing her cheeks. The Groenendael laughed outright as the ballsy she-wolf butted her nose into one of the sea lions’ rounded flanks and neatly leapt away, easily avoiding the clumsy swat of one expansive flipper. “That was great!” bespoke the Aralez’s eager cerulean eyes. She tipped back her muzzle and “howled” her congratulations, making her impediment plain — rather than a silvery melody, a prolonged, barely audible sigh trailed from her lips.

“Your turn!” chirped the elegant nymph with a saucy wink, and Coelacanth hopped to her feet. Oh, she hoped she wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of her new friend!

Sprightly paws executed a quick pirouette as Seelie readied herself. She appreciated the younger wolf’s daredevil nature, gleaning from it a sense of transferred bravado and a fair helping of nostalgia as well. She and Amoxtli had come here soon after their arrival in the Teekons.

Amoxtli, she was sure, would know what to do about the situation in the Rainsong Labyrinth — but he was far away, back home, learning to live his own life and finding out what he truly wanted to do. Coelacanth shook her head to clear it of these distractions, bouncing her frail weight from paw to paw and then showing her new friend what she did best: herding and cutting.

She began to pace at first, eyes trained on the rookery and its inhabitants. The sea lions who’d been roused during the butterscotch female’s turn were alerted to her machinations, so she trotted around to the other side. The pacing turned into coy circles, and the circling ended up with a lightning-quick sweep of her paws as she darted boldly in, nipped harmlessly at the edge of one flipper, and hightailed it away with one of the cows hot on her heels. Gathering herself like a gymnast before a tumbling pass, she bounced on her toes and sprinted in, neatly running a circle around the cow before returning to Niamh’s side. The effect was something of a good-natured delinquent reconvening with her partner-in-crime. “We’d better run!” was the gist of her fox-fine muzzle, burrowing briefly in the cream undercoat at the taller female’s withers.

Maybe it wasn’t totally necessary to flee, but running on the beach sure felt good!