Wheeling Gull Isle east is up

There was quiet for a few moments while Mou sulked and waited for his pain to ebb away, as it always did. He thought of scouring the floor for any lost seeds but there wasn't time, because there was quite suddenly, a scrambling body using him as a climbing apparatus. At first he was inclined to react as if struck, expecting pain from the cub's claws and chubby body, but in fact the cub was quite light — and Mou was more surprised by the child's sudden presence and contact, not so much her scrambling for stability across his back. He found himself sitting as still as possible so that she would not fall or harm herself.

He could feel her little tongue grazing at the fur between his ears, which fanned out on either side like dark butterfly wings from his pale head. 

OK? she peeped.

Ck— he replied from the back of his throat without thinking, trying to say the sound back at her. He couldn't do the first part, but the second — the crackling sound of "ck" as in "oak" — wasn't difficult. It did surprise him to hear the sound though, expecting nothing to come from the effort.

Mou still did not want to move, especially with the child on his scruff since she could tumble pretty far, but his ears pivoted back and he felt the edge of one graze at her softly. Whatever had bothered him before had lifted; he felt renewed to a degree, curious of this small one and softened by her easy company.