Wheeling Gull Isle whispers sloth, through curls of smoke

Towhee spent the morning wading in a tide pool until she finally managed to catch a fish. She dropped the damn thing the instant her toes touched dry land again and took a slap to the teeth before Towhee straight-up punched the fish in its damn face. It shocked the fish long enough for her to grab it and run inland.

She had dropped off some mushrooms the evening before, which were now gone from the threshold of the den. Towhee smiled around her catch, popping her head inside just long enough to drop it at Heda’s feet before retreating to find more sustenance for Caracal’s mate.

As much as she’d like to just hang out and let eight puppies crawl all over her, Towhee was on a mission: make certain Heda didn’t suffer from milk fever, which could kill not only her but all eight of those innocent babies.

Cameo!