Wheeling Gull Isle kiss me like that

The sheepdog watched @Thresher with characteristic intensity, her muscles tensed with a waiting readiness; she was, in equal parts, distrustful of the streamlet’s greediness and confident in her daughter’s ability to navigate it. Even when @Grayling crowed delightedly, capturing the sharp swivel of his mother’s tufted ears, a part of her was still focused on @Stockholm’s miniature. She barked her praise, the rush of her breath punctuated by a quick clip of her jaws, and her heart swelled with pride at the sight of her boisterous firstborn. Anything she might have said was drowned out by the shrill, piercing yaps of her gold cloud boy, surging to his brother’s side to help subdue the flopping fish. Their characteristic synchronicity — there was order in their chaos! — pleased her. They were Stockholm’s boys; they bore his steely bone structure, his length of spine; and the Gampr’s sway curved their furiously wagging tails. But they were her boys, too. The blue of Grayling’s eyes was deepening instead of muddying, and both boys’ ears were decorated with elongated tufts.

A glance at her girls, side-by-side at the water’s edge, offered Coelacanth the same warm glow that suggested some ancient prophecy had been fulfilled. Thresher and Koi were finespun, short-backed, and drawn with finer hands than their brothers; the delicate lines and sloping tails were all Groenendael. But they were Stockholm’s girls — Thresher wore her father’s colors, and what Koi lacked in physical construct she made up for in loyalty. Though the pearl loved both of her parents equally, it was clear to both Seelie and Stockholm who her favorite was.

A series of staccato barks caught the attention of three pairs of tufted ears — the boys were busy fighting the Battle of Fishslap — and Seelie turned to face the returning twain. It did not occur to her that Komodo and `Io had come home — hadn’t she just been lamenting what a poor shepherd she was? — so her initial expression was alert and aloof. It only took a moment before it melted away, though, and she surged forward to meet the raven on flighty paws that couldn’t keep still or stay on the ground. Her spine went noodle-wiggly as she rushed the taller female, heedless of `Io’s personal space, but she approached with a naturally self-effacing air; slightly at an angle, with her shoulder and hips swiveling toward her friend. A litany of delighted whimpers and whines bubbled in her throat. She did not realize that tears of joy were streaming from her seablue eyes to dampen the velvet of her cheeks until she paused and turned to make watery eye contact with the Earthstalker.

They had parted on an unresolved, odd note that the Aralez still didn’t really know how to process — but she hoped that all was healed. She straightened, and a quizzical tilt of her head asked him to lead her in this reunion, but a meaningful clash of ocean blue with burnished gold suggested they “speak” at length at a later time.