Wheeling Gull Isle if only time flew like a dove

Moorhen was honestly uncertain whether or not this was going well. Things seemed - tense. But they were also talking, which was more than could usually be said for the pair of them. Mostly, she just nodded emphatically while Driftwood struggled through his own thoughts, although she did pipe up with a half-hearted, "Me too," when he came to the part about bathing. Moorhen was a rather finicky creature, although it was more of a nervous tick than a real desire to be immaculately clean.

Then, quite suddenly, there was a weird thing between them. And not the kind of thing she'd been going for! It was just a floppy sort of... weirdly shaped tendon? Moorhen came closer to give it a curious sniff, but it didn't seem to come from any sort of animal. It was sort of clear and white at the same time, like ice except not cold. Moorhen wasn't quite sure what it was, but she took it delicately between her teeth with a murmur of thanks.

They were very close, now. Moorhen wasn't quite sure why that felt so strange to her. Perhaps she really did need to spend more time with her packmates, if being in Driftwood's prescence was this foreign to her. "It is very nice," she offered, although she still wasn't sure what it was.