Wheeling Gull Isle a million little gods causing rainstorms

Following the birth of his children, Stockholm has become both more protective and more reclusive. He spends most of his time with Seelie in the Labyrinth, which is a weird place to want to give birth, in his opinion. Seelie never seems to worry that they’re going to topple over the edge of her bowl-like den and fall into the water, though; and he’s not dumb enough to argue with a new mother about where she should raise her kids. He’s known cats to give birth in some of the weirdest places imaginable, and honestly? If she wanted to have babies on the edge of a cliff, he’d make it work, stretching out his larger body to keep his children from being swept away.

The sound of a howl draws him reluctantly from his mate’s side; but he moves swiftly, hearing the urgency there. “Hey, Faeryn, Maegi,” he chuffs warmly, arriving on the scene. His brow furrows and his cropped ears prick alertly as he takes in the scene and moves closer. It takes him a few seconds, but recognition sparks in his golden eyes. “We met him at the Hunter’s Moon, remember?” he asks the blue wolfess, then explains to Maegi so she won’t feel excluded, “Seelie’s friend. She calls him Mouse.”

There’s no question in his eyes now, just a quiet certainty. Mouse is injured, and they need to move him inland, but he doesn’t want either of them to risk getting bitten. “Stay back,” he rumbles a low warning. Even near death, those jaws are still a danger — so he howls to summon Moorhen and Hemlock, and then tests the body with a firm nudge of his muzzle between the shoulders. It’s clear from this close vantage point that something got the young wolf around the neck, which doesn’t bode well.