Wheeling Gull Isle Some feathers I stole from the birds

AW

She slept soundly on a bed of dried leaves exposed by the thaw, in a small divot she'd dug into the sand that cupped the round shape of her belly. When she awoke, she was laying on her side, and craned her neck around to see the skin and fur of her belly stretch and ripple as the pups moved. They were restless, and were almost always squeezing against her bladder. The time was coming soon, she thought- she only hoped that they didn't come before she had found herself a safe place to stay, for good. 

For the night she'd been permitted shelter though she expected she would likely face their leader who would no doubt come armed with questions. She felt fear mingling in with her emotions, knowing that she was extremely vulnerable here. Still- if her past enemies could show her such kindness and take her to a place where she would be safe, then those who didn't know her might be lenient as well, considering her condition. 

That went without saying that Niamh was at least a bit neurotic- and she feared perhaps that they had taken her in, and would wait until she'd delivered her children before banishing her, drowning her perhaps- and then keep the children for her own. She tried to suffocate that fear, though. If they knew Coelacanth...Perhaps they would indeed show her mercy. 

She felt optimistic when she lifted herself up, that life might finally show her a little bit of hope. She moved to go and visit the shoreline, striding out across the sand and casting her gaze over the straight of water that separated her from the shoreline. It was nice to know that she had a boundary, a real, physical boundary that she could have between herself and everything that had hurt her in the past. A breeze swept along the shore but she didn't feel it tickle her. She looked down to see a crab scuttling across the sand, though it didn't seem to notice her whatsoever. There weren't paws for it to scuttle over, or fur for the wind to tousle. No pawprints left behind in the sand, and when the next breeze came, her awareness went with it. 

Her body remained curled up, peaceful, quiet. Fur loosely tousled by the wind, but otherwise peaceful and unmoving. All life that had existed within her had drifted away; the shock of injury having finally taken its toll on her life, in the same, slow-moving way it had once stolen a husband away from her.