Wheeling Gull Isle I hate to be the bearer of bad news

“Sunny,” the sheepdog breathed, tufted ears tipping forward upon her skull at the young wolf’s summoning cry. With infinite gentleness, she tucked a wandering @Grayling closer to her flank and smoothed her tongue soothingly across @Thresher’s brow. Her Neptune gaze drifted lovingly to her mate, whose heavily-muscled frame formed the opposite half of the ring that kept their children safe; the new parents were tucked nose to nose, tails entwined. In the thick fur of @Stockholm’s abdomen, Koi and Sixgill had formed something of a round knot, and Seelie swept them to her breast, caging them in the heart-shaped clasp of her forelimbs, without unraveling them.

At his Aralez’s behest, the Gampr rose and hastened to greet the boy. Cordially and succinctly, he urged Sunny to follow him to the Rainsong Labyrinth where Seelie waited. Once he returned with the Morningsider in tow, he took up his place once more, closing the ring and resting his heavy chin atop his mate’s wrist. He made no protest as Koi lovingly attacked his face, burbling melodically.

“Sunny, welcome Undersea,” she whispered, her feathered tail thumping vigorously. Her seasparkle eyes bore no shadows of sympathy or grief — just happiness, bright and clear and untarnished. If that didn’t make it clear enough to him that she was blissfully unaware of Grayday’s passing, her next statement would: “Morningsigh,” she misspoke softly, “Grayday, Catori, puppies — Dawn — Adi — ” it still hurt to taste his name upon her lips! — “all well?”