Wheeling Gull Isle sapped of strength

After attending to the seawolves’ hurts, Coelacanth lay across the narrow passage of spectrolite that formed Stonehollow’s bottleneck entrance like a blue-eyed incarnation of Anubis. She was a steadfast shepherd, as fiercely protective as her domesticated mother, and when Grayling sought playfully to defy her and wriggle past, she commanded him with a stern glance and a swift, nearly imperceptible wrinkling of her muzzle. Her characteristically gentle countenance blazed with otherworldly intensity, eyes flashing a ghostly fool’s fire silver as she counted and recounted the members of her flock. She would allow none of them to leave.

There was no spoken pronouncement that preceded Seelie’s impromptu return to the Council — it simply happened. In many ways, her proclivity for leadership was something that’d snuck up on her, leaving both the sheepdog and her scribe utterly blindsided. When she’d first arrived in the Teekon Wilds with Amoxtli two and a half years ago, the prospect of pledging her loyalty to any pack — let alone leading one and starting a family! — hadn’t sparked even an inkling of allure. The very idea of having children had been abhorrent to Doe’s Shadow — especially after being saddled with three puppies she was hard-pressed and ill-prepared to care for in the bonechilling grip of fimbulvetr — but so many things had changed, and Seelie loved her now.

Now, Moorhen was a fine, strong wolf, worthy of the Cairn name. Now, Seelie couldn’t imagine a world without Grayling, Thresher, Sixgill, and Koi. Now, the wolf had a pack; the sheepdog had a flock; and she didn’t wonder or worry about her place in the world. Aralez, they called her. Allmother, she called herself. Maybe it was because so many of Undersea’s new recruits were guppies; maybe it was the swiftly approaching breeding season. Whatever it was, she embraced the change within herself — and vowed to guide the seawolves into the new year with renewed resolve.