Wheeling Gull Isle Sea Shanty

The egress that opened to Coelacanth’s denning site, tucked behind a shimmering curtain of water in the shadow of Skybowl, was no longer a secret. Given the foot traffic of four growing puppies and a variety of adults, the scent trails leading to and from it were numerous and thick. Today the sheepdog watched her puppies, two pale, two dark, romp through a section of the crepuscular Labyrinth, but a soft, whispered bark warned them to caution. If they were going to be rowdy, such roughhousing was better done in the sunlight and soft earth outside. She was about to suggest this when a sandy paw slid a fish into view and then departed.

Cocking her head to the side, she approached the gift with an overabundance of caution herself, as wary as @Thresher could be sometimes — but it was just a fish, and a fresh one at that, and she carried it outside with a summoning whuff to the puppies. The wolf she faced was unfamiliar to her, and she wasn’t terribly pleased about that, but Stockholm had described Sockeye’s brother — and the family resemblance was plain. The piercing nature of her cerulean eyes softened.

“Peace be, Tauhou. Steelhead?”