Wheeling Gull Isle bismil

Sorry to post out of turn! Preparing to fly back to the states and I do not want to get eaten by the sweeper.

Instinct decreed that any physical touch was a threat. Though the Earthstalker was gentle in his ministrations, the sheepdog recoiled, skittering unsteadily away as if she had been burned. In many ways, she had been. Continually opening herself up to strangers and erstwhile aggressors alike was folly; for Coelacanth, to do otherwise was simply impossible. A small cut above one eye wept and dribbled rubies into the Neptune globe. She blinked reflexively, gazing at Komodo with a wounded, one-eyed gimlet stare, but in that moment it did not seem she recognized who he was or what he wanted with her. Panting raggedly, crimson streaming down into the sand from myriad inkdark quills, she tucked her muzzle to guard the series of punctures and moderately significant tear at the hollow of her throat, shielding her weakness from view.