Wheeling Gull Isle snake eyed with a sly smile.

He felt so helpless when she only tearfully returned his gaze, one chubby fist coming up to scrub at her own cheek. Caracal swallowed a sigh and sat up, looking around as if for answers. He supposed what he ought to do was take her back to the den, where she could hopefully find comfort in someone else: Heda, perhaps, or her siblings.

Come on, he said in a quiet voice, reaching out to gently touch her elbow, let’s get you back. Maybe your mama and sibs are awake by now.

Bracing himself for the inevitable confession to his wife about what had happened—how he’d somehow managed to upset Ava twice in one morning—Caracal led the way back toward their homestead at the top of the hill.