Wheeling Gull Isle Man Machine Poem

Thresher's opalescent gaze lifted when a familiar figure arrived, causing her little tail to wag from side to side. The dark brown female, with creamy markings around her distant but beautiful gaze, was considered a friend, as she was often greeted warmly by both of Thresher's parents. She didn't move from her position, sitting with her little beige chest pointed toward the West, but she leaned affectionately toward Moorhen when she felt the female's reassuring touch along her spine. Thresher emitted a grateful, loving coo in response, voice barely above a whisper as always. She wriggled her shoulders appreciatively when Moorhen echoed a saying often uttered by her mother, and gave the female a sweet little smile. 

When beckoned to find some water, she glanced toward her nearby parents, even though she knew fully well that her parents would always approve of her spending time with their most trusted packmates. She stood up, shook a few more little ashes off her creamy fur and moved alongside Moorhen toward the stream. 

Still, the little girl couldn't help but be concerned by whatever it was that was going on with the sky. It was a murky, orangeish colour, and the sun seemed to be dimmer than usual, and more pink in hue. She could look directly at it without squinting due to the cover of smoke. She whined softly, and gestured toward the sun, before looking up at Moorhen with a questioning gaze. Though she knew the words to speak, she still preferred to rely on actions and expressions to convey her thoughts and feelings.