Wheeling Gull Isle Cordelia

Driftwood grinned long and wide at the silly little excitable dance Thresher was engaging in as her tail windmilled energetically behind her. As she was zipping to and fro she was making some strange little sounds, huffy little breaths that for a moment started making Driftwood concerned, but really she wasn't seeming all that out of sorts, and after all she was dancing all about quite agily with very little sign of needing to slow down. Or heck, maybe she was just winding herself with her somewhat over-the-top display of excitement. He gave an appreciative little "woof!" of enthusiastic surprise of his own as she executed and expert little balletic twirl on the beach's empty stage. He still kept an ear cocked alertly for any further signs that her breathing might be progressing into something more actually distressed, however, as he himself turned his eyes back on the alluring little spiraled shell laying there on the sand a little ways before him. There was something about it too, though, that reminded him a little of Seelie, come to think... so yeah, Driftwood wasn't going to stay too worried about this just yet.

But then Driftwood was mildly concerned again as his attentive ears did indeed catch some minor possible distress a moment later, Thresher taking in and then exhaling some much deeper breaths than before. He cocked a surprised brow at the pup again however, turning her way just as he thought he heard her murmur, "Pearl." Had it just been a trick of the wind? Or of his imagination? While he was pretty confident they could dig up a decent number more shells without too much trouble, pearl seemed like it'd likely be stretching it. But...who knew. Maybe they could and would find an extra-shiny bit of treasure like that. Or maybe his ears were only playing tricks on him anyhow. Well, we'll see what we can find, here, he murmured, half to himself. He gave Thresher another quick once-over—yep, still bounding along happy as a clam, it seemed, moving freely and eagerly in pursuit of her assistant treasure-hunting job, here—before looking back yet again at his much-coveted little spiral shell. Not big, but quite perfect, and perfect therefore for a small puppy to be able to carry back to her mother in triumph— He was reaching out toward it already when a much louder and clearer resounding of "No. Hermit!" emerged from little Thresher. Driftwood stopped where he was in surprise, jaws half-opened to clutch at his prize—and then right in front of his nose, it moved. Driftwood pinwheeled suddenly back in a rather comical attempt to back himself up, to edit-undo his actions of a moment before and put some distance between him and the itty bitty hermit crab that was just poking itself out of its seashell home as he did so. It clacked one small red claw in alarmed warning and then zipped itself back inside, holing up tight and leaving the beach sands just as deserted and lifeless as before save for a tiny, barely-perceptible rocking of the shell which a moment later also vanished entirely.

Whuh, whuh, what?! managed Driftwood so very eloquently. I—whuh—when did crabs actually start taking over shells?! he lamented in befuddlement as he scooted back even further across the sands behind him. Well that was just not fair. He'd never even thought such a thing was possible! He looked down at little Thresher though to see how the little girl was taking all this— and to make sure that she, in turn now, was not reaching with guileless innocence out toward the already-occupied little shell. Although come to think it had been her warning that had saved him... and after all, growing up here and everything, Thresher probably was a little wiser to the potential perils of such crab-infested beaches. Driftwood suppressed a shudder, and then looked down on the youngster with newfound admiration. Why thank you, little one! That little critter would've got me right good for sure if you hadn't intervened. Good job, Thresher! He hid his still slightly shaken inner state deep as he winked chummily down at her. Have you ever thought about becoming a professional beach guardian when you get a little bigger? He reached out his long brown-and-sand neck to give her a somewhat rough affectionate nudge of relief, before his brain could catch up to his actions and forewarn him that perhaps this might still be a little overfamiliar, a little too much pressure for sensitive little Thresher. He also couldn't help but mutter to himself in the meantime, though, Who knew picking up these beached seashells could be so treacherous, as he started to question if perhaps he shouldn't find some other, safer alternative for Thresher to engage in after all. His eyes glued themselves to her little face once more though, to see if this might be something that might crush her hopeful spirits more than he would like... he wasn't sure he'd have the heart to do such a thing, truth be told! And it couldn't be all that too terribly risky... could it? At least he sure hoped not. Seelie and Stockholm might be kind but they would kill him if he fed their daughter to a bunch of crabs, he was quite certain, whether it had been accidentally or not.