Wheeling Gull Isle bats full of shame

vesper hesitated to follow, fiery gaze upon the slowly receding water once more. with a hard exhale to work up their nerve, dark paws gingerly took the the bridge. a shudder rolled through their petite form as the cold seized them up to the ankles. wet paws are better than wet everything, they affirmed silently, and followed from a respectful distance.

you won't even know i'm here, the darkling vowed. cousin or not, vesper was uneasy being too near another female in heat, but sharing this fortress of solitude with a vaguely familiar relative was the best case scenario if they couldn't have the isle all to themself. another layer of protection against unwanted advances.

they tilted their head in a small nod of acquiescence as caracal led them to a hauntingly familiar forest. vesper, was offered in return without ceremony or judgement. then after a few beats, thank you. those words held all the emotion the darkling struggled to put into words: relief, gratitude for caracal's care all that time ago, his care now, the complicated mixture of joy and grief that accompanied this return to their birthplace.