Wheeling Gull Isle book of psalms

Malakai rides the shallow surf at his brother's side, every bit of him radiating an air of pride and comfort. Head high and nose out, sniffing the salty breeze, his tail arched up and over his backside and a strut in his steps. 

It better be nice to you. Kai murmurs into his brother's ear with a sharpness. If not, there would be no more Psalm. 

Then, he rolls his bi-colored eyes, nose crinkling at his brother with a chuckle. Nooooo, Judah, a psalm. Like songs and hymns about God. Right dad? He looks to his father with expected acclaim for being correct.