Wheeling Gull Isle Cordelia

Bwaha... I don't know if you, too, were thinking of this BBC video with that post, but I sure was!  X)  Go, little hermit crab conga line, go!

Thresher was doing her best to explain, but as a creature of so few words (unlike her talented writer!  ;D ) her explanations proved to be somewhat lacking in general. Driftwood was dumbfounded however as he followed her indicatory gesture of a paw to there espy another of the small scuttling beasts, trip-trapping along on clawed little purple-red tippytoes along the sand as it absconded with what he liked to think was one of his shells. Or at least the pack's! Why, that had been a perfectly good seashell right there that Seelie could have used, or perhaps Driftwood himself! But well, it wasn't like he was about to fight the little clawed beastie for it, oh no. If it came down to a confrontation with those snipsnappy little claws then this darned "hermit" crab could have the shell... even if Driftwood was himself still somewhat inclined to mumble resentfully about that little fact.

Driftwood's eyes boggled not just as the little hermit crab surfed back out to sea on the next lapping wave however, but also as Thresher succinctly enumerated how those selfsame little crabs... made shells? Made shells with their secret crabclaw arts-and-crafts kung fu powers and then traded them about, like some sort of weird and warped miniature crab economy with his shells used as all their coinage? Driftwood blinked in gape-mouthed bewilderment at the spot on the sand whence had a moment before rested a crab—damn they were quick and slick and sneaky little quiet bastards—a goggling gaze he transferred to the next, slightly farther-off hermit crab before Driftwood realized his mouth was still hanging there uselessly just a little ajar and closed it with a small quick snap of embarrassment. That crab was moving away from them, too; a little closer to the treeline and a little further from the waves than its last brethren, so that it wasn't about to go sailing the waves along with its comrade anytime soon, but even so it was distant and deadset on moving in the correct and dwindling direction enough that when Thresher had got her balance again and asked him a question Driftwood was able to tear his eyes away at last and pay proper attention to the puppy once more.

'What do' ...? Oh, um, well. Okay, so maybe "beach guardian" was a thing Driftwood might have made up entire out of whole cloth and only pulled out of his ass because he thought it might appeal to the young girl and give her a bit more courage. Whoops. He hadn't thought somehow that then he might have to explain the thing to her... shoot. Well let's see... A beach guardian, he said slowly and carefully, trying to let his crisp enunciation and measured speed sound like it was giving the thing more gravity rather than simply him trying to feel his way forward through the dark, a beach guardian is a very special sort of wolf, one who watches the sands for anything out of the ordinary, anything that might either enrich the pack and bring better things, or that might predict danger or catastrophe ahead. He wanted to make sure he made it sound exciting and glamorous, as befit a job that such a smart and talented young pup would be suited for, but also that he didn't, like... talk her into getting herself into any trouble here. Hmm—he hoped he covered his bases with: And anything like that that the beach guardian finds, she would make sure to report right away to one of the leaders, and make sure that either the Aralez or Overseer knew about it as soon as possible. It is a Very Important sort of job, one that requires the wolf who chooses it to take the responsibility seriously, and diligently keep up with it—you know how fast things on the beach can change, after all, depending on the winds and waves and weather, right? Here he paused and scanned Thresher's little face closely, trying to make certain he wasn't overdoing it. Or underdoing it, for that matter. It's the sort of job that requires a careful and thoughtful wolf, he added, thinking that perhaps this would entice Thresher more and make her realize she had some special talents, here, that made her stand out among the rest of her litter, no matter how quietly she might deploy them or how easy they might be for some wolves to overlook, one who'll make sure they don't overlook anything important and gets all the details remembered right for the sake of the leaders and pack both. It's like a very special sort of scout that only islands like Wheeling Gull would have. Whoa...Driftwood was almost convincing himself, here, that this was actually a thing, or perhaps ought to be. He was sure though that Seelie, and most probably her mate Stockholm too, would be more than happy to help their daughter find a special little job of her own like this, one that utilized her talents and motivated her as well as bolstering her confidence... assuming this whole "beach guardian" type of thing, or something similar to it, actually appealed to the girl. But Driftwood at least thought he had caught a flash of genuine interest in her eyes a little bit ago at the possibility... he let his own eyes rove across her face to check and see if he could spy it there again, and how deeply its vein might run if so.