Wheeling Gull Isle neon gravestones try to call for my bones

Aww. Even if not, Seelie and Stock will always love her as family.

Coelacanth’s physical injuries were healed, but her spirit was sorely bruised. She had loved Aditya so dearly, believed herself forgiven for her past transgressions, only to have him disrespect her husband and wound her packmates. Her self-opinion had never been this low. She had snapped at poor @Hemlock when the woman had come to tend her wounds, and only @Stockholm’s pleading and the worried expressions on her children’s faces had coaxed her to submit to the medicine woman’s ministrations.

Today was the first day she’d left the Labyrinth since the fight — and she wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for Faeryn’s melodic voice, tinged with a rare vulnerability, winging high and wide. Surprisingly, the cool sand beneath her paws sowed the first seeds of healing in her wounded heart. This was her island, whether or not the other seawolves stayed; whether or not she ever forgave herself for Aditya’s crimes; whether or not Maegi and Mou ever came back. Her children had been born here, and perhaps more would be made when the weather grew cold enough for the most intimate kind of firemaking. Too, surely `Io and Komodo would be starting fires of their own, and she was eager to raise her children alongside theirs.

A soft whuff and a kittenish sneeze announced her arrival, and once she had the blue she-wolf’s attention, “Faeryn,” she mouthed. She crossed the distance without hesitation and rubbed her cheek against the flat of the taller female’s neck. Her unease was palpable to the empath, who cocked her head to the side and nibbled tenderly at her former leader’s nape in an attempt to offer comfort.