Wheeling Gull Isle sorrowing, sighing, breathing, dying

Radcliffe couldn't help being so upset by it all. But then, as he was moved slightly he found himself in a surprisingly comforting position. Between two who cared for him, showered him with a paternal love. Rad winced as his paw was checked over, a quiet whimper. Yet he did not cry. He felt safe, as if a newborn pup once more. Settled in the warm fur of mother. He was praised for being good, for being strong.

Over time, he slowly closed his eyes. Feeling safe and warm, cozy even. Rad let out a large yawn, his jaws splitting apart before closing and resting on his good forepaw, using whatever furred hide he could get his head on to rest upon. Then, slowly he drifted off as he felt Moorhen rest as well.