Wheeling Gull Isle chichplei

it took the words a bit to find their way trough mental circuits rewired to awe.

but they reached him, eventually.

"kuh-rist." slavuj woofed, slightly more conscious of the situation. "yeau pack ae wallop, mis!"

he heaved himself into a sit, tassels spilling over him. still he raised a paw to keep them from his face, so that he might look at his saviour as was proper.

she was wolf of average size and atheltic build
she was a seasalt she-saint, eyes filled with a soft worry for him, the fur whence her paw had touched feeling holy as the diamond eye of a christian mummy. he was caught between hesitancy and dreamlike wish.

"...ah! swit-arbor?" slavuj looked around, as if he'd been airdropped there instead of walking on own feet. "oh!" and he rose onto all fours, despite there still being a wobble in how he stood.

"mai apolojies, mis heh-dah." his tongue tested the name. "yeau are pak has lived here fram at'um, yes?"