Wheeling Gull Isle not unlike the waves

Coelacanth made a show of thumping her spindly forelimbs upon the ground and wriggling her rump with exaggerated focus — but when she took off, it was in little fits and starts. She wanted to be caught and tackled and squashed! Otherwise, what was the point of running away? She bunny-hopped a few paces, her tail lashing with wicked delight, and only burst into a run when she was sure both of her sons were following. It was considerably slower than the tachyonic sprints for which she was known, but she still led them at a fast clip, tracing lazy s-shapes up and down the uneven terrain, encouraging their growing legs to grow accustomed to the soft sand and lush greenery that characterized their idyllic island home.