Honeyed Pasture and the gulls gave me my singing voice

it strikes yunxu, pushing through another curtain of grass that rises up to his shoulder, as singularly ridiculous that island wolves would move this far to escape the rain. surely the coast would do, instead of sharing space in someone else’s forest? but then, he prefers the quiet. who knows if huā is the same? or if she even has the choice?

he’s happy aimi is here, of course. but aimi is the exact opposite of quiet.

and as though someone is just waiting for him to tempt fate, a small chuff comes from somewhere nearby. his newest acquaintance is much smaller than the last ones he’s crossed paths with here; fur in the same pale seafoam as his own, an ink-dark splotch around an eye the same color as the horizon where it meets the sea. delicate and fine-boned as a gull. not from these wilds; there’s an accent under his words, not chinese but not vallkyrie's or umbra's either.

biting back a sigh, the young shark drags up an echo of owlglass’s smile – the contained, civil one, hoping it’s more genuine than his own, which has gotten him nowhere with these people – and hastily bows his head.

“hello,” he says. “it just a…misunderstanding.”