Wheeling Gull Isle count all the bees in the hive, chase all the clouds from the sky

The little boy seemed to take his father’s questions seriously, pondering them before answering. His response was very telling about Malakai’s persona, eliciting a grin from Caracal. So, he aspired to be a warrior and he was spoiling for a fight? Caracal was the furthest thing from a fighter—he was much more likely to take a pounding than dish one out—but he would be happy to show his son a couple of moves. And then maybe he would nudge him toward someone who could actually teach him, like Towhee.

You’ll probably kick my ass, he said before halting and clapping a paw to his mouth. Guess we’ll have to put a seashell in the swear jar when we get back… anyway, did you know some wolves have two names? Maybe you could be Malakai Michael and we can call you M&M for short?

He kept moving until the pair of them was a little closer to the edge of the mangroves, where silt gave way to proper sand and the waves lapped inward from the eternal sea. Caracal gazed out at the blue horizon, then pointed his fox-like muzzle back toward Malakai.

Whenever you’re ready, he said, putting up his dukes, come at me, bro.