Wheeling Gull Isle if you look away, the stars will know, and they will not be able to help you.

Komodo didn’t know what he had expected of her — maybe to fully receive his caresses and lean into his gentle affirmations — but certainly not here, certainly not with Stockholm watching, and this was most certainly not the most important thing going on right now. Komodo stood by as Coelcacanth peeled herself away and wheeled around to regard the puppies. Yes, that’s right. Focus on the puppies. 

— but he couldn’t. They were safe with two of the most maternal figured that could have hoped to be placed with, and he could not even pretend to know the basics of midwifery. The corpse, the shell of a life taken too soon, stole the angakkuq’s attentions. Death was, in a way, sacred — the cycle of life was something to be respected — but this certainly did not feel sacred. It felt dirty and profane. 

Komodo nodded at Seelie’s naming of the pups. Sounded good to him. “We should put ‘er tuh rest, soon,” the brute digressed. “She woodn’t want tuh be ‘membered lahk this,” Bloodied from birth and smelling of death. He had not known the dog before, but he could feel her presence and knew this was not an accurate reflection of the life she lived. Komodo raised an eyebrow at Stockholm and wondered if the other brute might assist him in this, leaving to women to tend to the children.