Wheeling Gull Isle Before the morning sun, when life was lonely

Powerplaying Stockholm!

It was a heartsick, weary pair that greeted Sunny that Christmas afternoon. Stockholm’s scarred muzzle was drawn into a taut line, and Seelie simply appeared diminished in some indefinable way — her proud carriage was bent and bowed, and the light had all but gone out of her Neptune eyes. “Sunny,” Stockholm rumbled, his voice warm with recognition, golden eyes flickering interestedly. “How are you? What brings you here today?” By no means was the boy unwelcome — evinced by the soft sweeps of the Gampr’s tail and the visible (if sluggish) improvement of Seelie’s mood — but the Overseer could not help but assume the visit was related to pack business.

Coelacanth, who had not seen Grayday and Catori’s boy for a prolonged period of time, rushed to his side immediately and sniffed him over thoroughly, recognizing a collection of scents that didn’t seem to add up or make sense. When she drew back, her expression was patently confused — and a little fearful. “Catori,” she breathed without preamble, her eyes begging him for news. “Eventide, River, Kitten.”