Wheeling Gull Isle vaucha

she corrected herself in one swift moment. a smile returned to his face, kind and thankful. she was learning, he reminded himself. he knew she did not say His name in any sort of vain attempt.

but a name was not on his mind. she had named their hills. the greenhills was a good name. soft and kind, the embodiment of their little place. his own tail swayed with content peace.

i haven't thought of one but...it does remind me of a story. a man thrown into a lion's den, saved by the blessings of God. he wondered if she cared for such a thing. although i wonder if naming it the lion's den may scare those who visit, unintentionally or otherwise.

and he doubted any mountain lion (or other felines for that matter) seemed to make home in here.