Wheeling Gull Isle sorrowing, sighing, breathing, dying

Whatever Seelie had been expecting, it wasn’t this. Anxiously (and apologetically, her cerulean eyes tilting beseechingly up at Moorhen) she bathed the boy’s face, tasting the bitter salt of his tears upon her tongue. She had no idea whose boy this was — she only knew that he wasn’t one of Catori’s children. “Know Sunny,” she breathed to him, trying to catch his eye. “Redcliff welcome ever Undersea — but Eelie…Leejeom…” The pack name was too new for the Aralez to offer it with any semblance of fluency, but she tried to correct her error and reassure the puppy at the same time: “We fix first,” she said firmly, brushing her whiskers against his uninjured toes, “and then, we find Sunny.” Her tone turned brisk and decisive then, as she hopped to her paws and gently attempted to guide the pack’s newest guppy further inland.