Wheeling Gull Isle screaming meemies

It took his eyes a moment to make sense of the pale silhouette shifting at his feet. Then he realized it was little Abel, his distinct markings making him partly blend into the darkness. And then the boy’s eyes opened, glimmering like cornflowers in the dusk.

Hey, he whispered, bending down to nose the boy’s forehead and then slowly, carefully sliding back into a prone position beside Abel. Weird dreams? Me too.

After a small hesitation, Caracal stretched out a foreleg in invitation, in case Abel wouldn’t mind some comforting.