Wheeling Gull Isle sprucing up the place

Seelie considered it. For her, motherhood hadn’t started until Poppy had passed away, leaving Fern and Mur to the safety of the pack. The feeling of motherhood had intensified once she had given birth to her own puppies — but Doe and Catori, she knew, had adopted puppies who had not come from their own bodies. Seelie wasn’t sure she had ever officially adopted Fern and Mur, in that she had never forgotten their true mother. She loved Moorhen dearly, but she didn’t think of herself as the girl’s mother. “Mother,” she breathed firmly, “many different. From blood and bone, from choice, from need.” She touched her nose to the bulb of Moorhen’s ear. “Protect and care, love ever,” she explained, and for Seelie, that was really all there was to it.

That being said… “To make shark needs sire,” she said apologetically, accidentally dropping the Seelholmism for doing the sex. She did not know how to explain to Moorhen that the whole situation was sure to be uncomfortable and terrifying at first. The best thing she could tell the girl was: “Trust self,” with a tiny stamp of one feathered forepaw. “Moorhen choose sire. Any choice, good girl — Moorhen choose.”