Wheeling Gull Isle if only time flew like a dove

It didn't feel quite right to order him to consume his own gift - oughtn't he to do what he liked with it? - nor to stand there and watch while he wolfed down the meal. But Moorhen was as awkward a wolf as Driftwood - just in a much less friendly way. So she did both, and continued to stare unnervingly as he ate.

It did bring her a small amount of satisfaction to see him consuming his meal with such gusto. She erroneously believed that he was enjoying himself, and felt warmed to have brought him some measure of happiness. When next he looked up at her, she would offer an encouraging wag of her tail.

Her gaze was not quite so intense as she relaxed into the interaction. Things seemed to be going swimmingly, so there was no need to be nervous. And, believing the ice to be most thoroughly broken between them, she decided to test the waters. You are a good wolf, she said to the male, her words more matter of fact than flirty, which was what she had been going for. Flattering would have to do. Thank you for loyalty.