Wheeling Gull Isle wereon

knowing that she and caracal would have help for some time longer eased heda greatly. sleep was still evasive, snatched in greedy naps here and there. she couldn't recall the last time she had slept next to her mate, or slept at all without a tangle of small limbs and nursing mouths keeping her just at the edge of wakefulness.
but for a moment, oh, just a moment; heda crept down into the tidepools and waded to their rushing edge, eagerly dousing herself in foam. a little exhale left her mouth as she ardently scrubbed the scent of dried milk and meat particles from her coat.
she ducked beneath the surface and rose streaming, only to return again and once more, until the salt burned her eyes and she felt truly cleansed, refreshed in body if not in mind.
god provides.