Wheeling Gull Isle maybe it’s not the moon at all

Backdated to April 8, 2018. Takes place the evening of this thread. @Komodo ♥

The selkie’s daughter threaded her way through Rainsong Labyrinth on nimble, knowing paws, making for the maw to the north that opened to the sea. A heavy sense of dread gathered within her breast like a confederacy of low-slung nimbostratus clouds, reducing her sprightly gait to a hangdog slink — she regretted, and fiercely, that she had allowed so much time to pass without talking to the Earthstalker and rekindling their closeness. Things had been so busy with the second coming of Undersea, and Seelie had been admittedly wrapped up in Stockholm and Moorhen, and Komodo’s silent endurance had allowed her to fool herself into believing he was happy to be here and distant only because of his communion with his gods. Now she felt guilty, and a little stupid.

At the back of her mind, she hoped that Driftwood was settling in well — that Hemlock was safely bedded down with her children — that Faeryn and Stockholm shared her sense of pride and fulfillment about what they had accomplished thus far. She wondered about Moorhen, hoping that the girl was happy here and not remaining simply to keep the sheepdog company. She worried about her twin and about Catori, whose time was drawing near [she had no way of knowing that the Spiritwalker’s children were already born]. She didn’t worry about Brontide, Serein, and Sirimiri quite so much, for they were accustomed to journeying, but Amoxtli — oh, Oxtli! —

…but it was Komodo who occupied the fine wirings of the sheepdog’s psyche now. She had wronged the honey-tongued medicine man with her distance, and she wanted to make things right.