Wheeling Gull Isle sour handover

He wondered if her young mind could possibly comprehend such a concept, though Dinah said she thought she understood. That was all Caracal could expect for now, he supposed, and he swallowed a sigh as she snuggled closer to his chest. He didn’t even have to think about wrapping his foreleg more tightly around her small body.

Her words warmed his heart a little, as did the sound of her giggle, but Caracal couldn’t bring himself to smile at her joke. She was too little to know how emotionally drained—and whiplashed—he felt lately. He didn’t want to burden her by trying to explain it, either, so he just nuzzled her ear and held her a while.

Eventually, he said, We ought to get back to the den before your mama gets worried, and released Dinah to stand up.

He shook out his damp fur, thankful that the rain had slacked off into more of a drizzle. If they hurried, they wouldn’t get that much wetter. Caracal nosed Dinah encouragingly when a final grumble of thunder sounded off in the distance, followed by one last show of lightning.

After he saw her safely home, tucked her into bed and waited for her to fall asleep, Caracal knew he would need to go back out again. His daughter’s appearance had momentarily distracted him but he could still feel it. He needed more time to exorcise the rest of these horrid emotions.