Wheeling Gull Isle your whole life is in the hands of God

He tended to the pups, alongside Heda and Caracal, and all the residents of Sweetharbour. The children became their focus of living. Even Caracal’s mother had come to help in these first and vital days. Helped sustain them, nurture them, and he was grateful beyond words. She had raised a fine son in Caracal; she knew of motherhood more than any of them. Even Heda.

He prayed for the children one by one — Heda’s by name, and the rest, by appearance and face. You choose their names, Heda had said, and he had spent the better half of the week watching them, seeing them, singing over them, and pondering in heart what name would suit each one.

Weary paws roamed the sands today. Caracal had come to take up his time with the kids, and Everett had gone to hunt — yet his teeth were unfruitful, for one child still rested heavy on his heart: Everett had noticed little @Dinah slip away.

He’d found her scent leading down through the lavender fields. Alone — and he sought her out there, upon the shoreline.