Wheeling Gull Isle stand by the stairway, you'll see something

She hadn't missed Mou's worn appearance. She probably looked just as tired, and felt it, too. But her eyes were full of compassion and worry for her mate as he crawled into the den, hoping he'd settle down and stay a while.

Have you eaten anything lately? Maegi asked softly, gaze shifting slowly over his angular form, his arching ribs. She would hunt for him—or try, anyway—were it not for the metaphorical leeches tied to her belly at nearly all times.

She waited a beat for any response, then continued. I've been thinking of their names, she said, in a whisper, almost as if shy. Do you have anything in mind?

Right now, all she craved was his body against hers, relaxed and limp in slumber. But, Maegi supposed, she had solicited his opinion—at least to start.