Wheeling Gull Isle ii. moondust

Maegi was utterly bewildered. Here was a game she did not know how to play, a game without words, only actions. For all they were a quiet lot, tracking through the darkness, the Blackfeather wolves had their prayers. They spoke, and listened. But her words here had gone unanswered, and no greeting--at least in her tongue--had been given, save her name, which was now being barked at her.

The nudge on her side would have thrown her off balance in any situation; tired and hungry as she was, she tumbled over into the sand, scrambling and failing to keep her footing. She attempted to get into a sitting position, but her heavy limbs would not allow it. This was the first time in a while she'd lain down, and sleep pulled at each cell of her body like an insistent child, tugging at its mother's tail.

Her eyelids fluttered as she looked up at the brown woman, ears falling not backwards but sideways across her head. She was only faintly aware of her exposed belly, and the danger to which that left her vulnerable; the world of dreams was calling, louder and louder. . .