Wheeling Gull Isle snake eyed with a sly smile.

Though he hesitated to touch her—his paw hovering, shaking slightly, just over her back—Caracal eventually brought himself to pat Ava lightly as she apparently inhaled some water. He grimaced, just trying to keep in mind that every wolf had to learn this lesson at some time or another.

Down the wrong pipe? he commiserated gently, now smoothing his paw from shoulders to hips, his touch still begging forgiveness. Just keep breathing and it’ll clear out in a min. We can’t breathe underwater, whether it’s fresh or saltwater, he explained in a calm voice.

As he continued stroking her convulsing sides, something caught his eye just over yonder. His paw froze, then resumed its petting, as he glanced down into the baby’s face. Had she recovered yet?

Look over there, he whispered to her, ducking his face toward hers and pointing. What is that? he asked with genuine curiosity, just praying that he wasn’t about to lead Ava into more harm.