Wheeling Gull Isle ii. moondust

@Yakone and I are here!  Tagging @Komodo, @Coelacanth, and @Stockholm for visibility... also @Maegi!
Forward dated, idk, three or five days?

The further she distanced herself from the valley, the more at ease she felt.  Yakone had toddled not far behind; the nameless raven swept her youngest daughter gently between her jaws and carried her as she fled.

Days passed until she finally crossed the scent of the sheepdog, further south than expected, near the borders of some other territory.  But her trail was fresher as it headed back towards the coast, so she continued north with her child in tow.  

As soon as the island came in sight, she picked up Yakone and bolted straight across the land bridge before depositing her on the other side, yipping gleefully as she darted back and forth across the border.  

It was the hardest journey of her life so far, and she'd already weathered some difficult ones. Hungry and tired, but too afraid to approach a mother with a young pup, she remained a distance behind, merely trying to keep the woman in her sights.

Perhaps this hadn't been worth it. Now home felt even further away, and there was no refuge to be found.

Everything changed when Maegi crossed a rise and the glittering expanse of blue-green rose before her. Awed, the girl stared for a long moment, jaw agape. What brilliant field was this? Stumbling in her exhausted excitement, Maegi made her way to the flatlands, paws sinking in the unfamiliar white-gold dirt. The cries of foreign birds rang out overhead; a pungent smell ruled over all--almost like blood, but fresher, cleaner.

The field broke apart in ripples, cresting into lines of white--like long clouds--before dissolving into nothing. Maegi approached and was shocked, letting out a giggle, to have a wave roll against her ankles and found that it was water. It was all water. Infinitely vaster than the pond in Spiderlings' Glen.

She was so enamored by this newness that she had lost track of the woman, and felt a momentary surge of panic. Then she noticed the bar of land that cut through the water, with the mother's scent and tracks trailing across it. She was far off, a dancing shadow in the distance, and--with a newfound resolve--Maegi crossed the land bridge, eyes flashing back and forth as she struggled to take everything in at once.

Finally, she came near to the woman's side, a small, white shadow. She kept a distance from the young pup, remembering how defensive Relmyna had been of her babes--so different from her own mother! But, then, that had been Potema--but looked up at the warrior she-wolf, head cocked in fascination.

"I followed you from Bearclaw Valley," she said bluntly, not wasting a moment on small talk. Her gaze raked across the paradise in which she now found herself. "Where are we?"

Moorhen was prepared to bristle at the shapes she saw dancing across their beach. She knew the Shadow liked to welcome newcomers, but the Shadow wasn't there right now, and Moorhen had a duty to protect, not to welcome. So she marched down there, bristling and unfriendly, only to break into a happy lope when she recognized the lean figure.

"Venninne!" she barked, happy to see her old friend. And she'd brought a baby, and a friend! How fun! "Here to stay?" she asked, prancing forward but stopping several yards away, tail wagging in a friendly arc high over her back. Welcoming, but dominant - she would tolerate no funny business here. Not from Venninne, and not from her pale friend, who earned herself a tolerant but mistrustful glance from Moorhen simply because she looked sorta funny.

She had noticed but not questioned the ghost that lingered behind her; she had been a new addition to the valley and the dark cloud that had hung over it did not hang over this girl.  Thus far she had not attempted to harm either of them, and here in the sheepdog's domain the former-matriarch felt as if nothing could harm her.

She jack-knifed around, barreling almost into Maegi and tilting her head before something familliar shouted from behind.

Venninne!

Her little brown friend!  She had wondered where they had all disappeared to!  She burst forward towards her dearly missed friend, legs bent underneath her as her tongue whipped out from between her jaws at the Cairn's chin.  A whine escaped from her, weary and excited.

One could tell from a distance that the raven was not used to this whole submission thing: her ears were still pinned forward, her tail low but wagging at a mile a minute.  Every time someone moved, she jittered.

A brown figure burst onto the scene, galloping across the silken ground, an expression of happiness set on her face. She greeted the mother--was Vennine her name, or a word in a tongue she didn't know?--and came to a halt. The woman from Bearclaw touched her under the chin, but Maegi hung back, tail low, eyes wary.

She could feel the dark stare on her, and knew the woman must be judging her for her deformities. And why not? She couldn't see herself, unless she looked into still water--something she hadn't worked up the courage to do, yet--but she knew she must look quite ghoulish. Nevertheless, the girl kept a brave face, one side of her mouth arced in a permanent smile, the other corner blandly neutral.

feel free to skip me until she's addressed properly!

Moorhen held still while Venninne made her friendliness clear. They were friends, so Moorhen didn't take offence when her submission was spotty and incomplete. Her own posture relaxed somewhat in response, the fur of her back slowly lying back where it belonged, only to fly up once more when she turned to face the younger wolf. A pale girl with a scarred face, and something wrong with her paw.

Compassion was not an emotion that came naturally to the girl. Perhaps, if she grew possessive enough over Maegi, she might one day feel concern or even sorrow over her deformities. For now, it was only something that set her apart from the average wolf, something that made Moorhen feel anxious and therefore aggressive.

"Naame?" she asked the girl, pressing forward into Maegi's personal space, demanding submission to a higher degree than what Venninne had displayed. Yakone, for the moment, was forgotten. Moorhen didn't consider her an individual and had decided to leave her orientation to her mother.

Her prickly brown friend was only doing what she had done herself in the valley; she wanted to protect her home, her island.  While the raven understood this, it still made her nervous.  She bounded between the ghost-girl who had followed her (taking in her injuries in full for the first time) Moorhen, and Yakone, whimpering as her tail tattooed against her hocks.  

Once, she darted in and nipped at the brown one like they had done back in the valley, but upon realizing that might not be the best thing to do given the situation, she rolled over and curled her wrists over her narrow ribcage.

The stranger loomed over her, fur puffed out, face brooking no opposition. Thus addressed, she said, "Maegi," and left it at that, hoping that was enough for the woman. She'd seen this song and dance before. She knew what it was to have to defend a territory. . .and she knew the dangers of strangers infiltrating said territory.

She resisted the urge to laugh, suddenly. She was the farthest thing there was from a threat right now, scrawny and starving, a girl just shy of seven moons. To be met with such aggression--

"Where are we?" Maegi asked the Bearclaw woman again, turning to look at her. Clearly at the borders of a pack, but which one? And would they be familiar with her scent, her family? Her stomach rumbled, and she knew that it was a risk she would have to take, if she wanted to eat anytime soon. She watched the sort of dance the mother was doing, ears rolling forward in curiosity.

There was too much scent and motion to keep track of everything. One moment, she was pressing toward the pale girl, and then Venninne was between them, Venninne was lunging, was dancing away, was submitting - "Um!" the girl demanded, bristling as she looked between the three wolves - her friend's wily actions, the pup's roly-poly smallness, the pale girl's indifference. Moorhen's anxiety rose.

"Maegi," she barked, her voice commanding. Pay attention to me, she wanted to order, disliking all that was happening right under her nose - it was too much to follow in such a stressful situation. The girl smoothed a lick over Venninne's muzzle and moved toward Maegi again, her stance tight and anxious but her actions gentler than they'd been a moment before. She jabbed her muzzle against Maegi's shoulder, her side, pressing for more showy submission from the girl.

She flipped back over.  Moorhen's anxiety bled off into the mother; when the brown one prickled, so did she.  It looked bizarre on her; her movements were still friendly.  She looked more shocked than anything with her wide eyes and crouched form.  The red woman slunk off next to Maegi, positioning herself over Yakone as she moved to touch the white one gently before recoiling at the last second.

She did not understand why her friend was pressing so hard, nor did she know how to communicate to her ghost what the prickly one wanted (for she scarcely knew herself).  For the first time since leaving the valley, a real fear settled over her.  What if they were denied here?  She looked to Maegi with hopeful doe-eyes and let out a suppliant whine.

Maegi was utterly bewildered. Here was a game she did not know how to play, a game without words, only actions. For all they were a quiet lot, tracking through the darkness, the Blackfeather wolves had their prayers. They spoke, and listened. But her words here had gone unanswered, and no greeting--at least in her tongue--had been given, save her name, which was now being barked at her.

The nudge on her side would have thrown her off balance in any situation; tired and hungry as she was, she tumbled over into the sand, scrambling and failing to keep her footing. She attempted to get into a sitting position, but her heavy limbs would not allow it. This was the first time in a while she'd lain down, and sleep pulled at each cell of her body like an insistent child, tugging at its mother's tail.

Her eyelids fluttered as she looked up at the brown woman, ears falling not backwards but sideways across her head. She was only faintly aware of her exposed belly, and the danger to which that left her vulnerable; the world of dreams was calling, louder and louder. . .

Finally, the girl relented, going slack in a way that seemed reluctant, but which placated the anxious Seawolf. Accordingly, her own body relaxed, her posture becoming less demanding and more friendly - until she realized there was something wrong, her her body coiled tight once more.

"Um!" she gasped, looking to Venninne with worried eyes. "Sick girl," she said gravely, turning back to snuffle over the prone figure. It was malnutrition that tickled at Moorhen's nose, and not disease. Moorhen poked at her a few more times, testing her scent in different areas - mouth, ears, anus - before deciding that she was not a danger to the pack. "Um," she wondered if she should stay and guard the trio, or if her engery would be better spent fetching a meal for the family. "Stay. Okay?"

She turned and bounded away, returning a few moments later with a large salmon in her jaws. The meat was fresh and sweet, although the skin was already puckered and sticky. She'd intended to present it to Coelacanth, but it seemed more petinent to give it to the ailing girl and hungry mother. "For eat," she said to the trio, dropping it in front of Maegi and stepping back to watch.

Undersea — home of the “no talk good” squad.

Coelacanth wasn’t feeling particularly social on the heels of the collie’s rescue. Fighting with the ocean to claim the pack’s newest tauhou had earned her a sore spine and a bellyful of seawater; she’d relieved herself of the latter moments after the fact, but she was still feeling the residual nausea. Rolling in some wild mint had helped, but she still felt muzzy and sluggish.

It was with some dismay, therefore, that her keen ears picked up a sharply barked, “Maegi!” She’d been on her way to Wavewrack Lagoon with the intention of a nice, luxurious saltwater soak, but Moorhen’s alarm could not be ignored. All senses alert, the Aralez moved with a modicum of effort from a stiff walk to a short-strided lope. She was surprised to see the wounded winter raven, and her Neptune eyes went immediately to the woman’s scarred left side. Fearlessly, she pressed forward into the throng, nosing affectionately and lovingly at Moorhen first and foremost. “Hello, lamb,” she whuffed, sniffing her over to make sure everything was all right with the banded girl.

It was then that she caught sight of the girl on the ground and was immediately thrown into action. Instinctively she felt the fish would be a daunting task for one so weak. “Good Moorhen,” she praised in a barely audible whisper, then settled beside the wounded girl and the fish. With her teeth, she scored the flesh and tore away a few easily digestible slivers, nosing them nearer to the girl’s lips. Then, a little uncertainly, she began to stimulate the girl to wake with long sweeps of her tongue over the fine, pale ears. “Morning now,” she insisted clumsily, nosing at her nape.

Oh!

The inkblot girl who had been her rescuer in the woods shifted into view.  Her movements were uncharacteristically stiff as she approached.  Had she been hurt, too?  She was no healer, but she had learned enough from Blondine —

But everything was happening too fast, and there were too many individuals to keep track of.  Neptune eyes grazed over the thick, knotted flesh along her side and shamefully, the raven shied from the physician's liquid gaze.

The Aralez melted into her prickly brown lamb and something about it wounded the outsider.  I want to be loved, too, she thought, wondering why she was not capable of such cordial salutation.  Had she not already been addressed, she would have peppered the silken sheepdog in thankful kisses.

She was not allowed to linger on it long before her attention was forcefully returned to her wounded ghost.  What had this girl that Indra had captivated want to do with her?  She curled next to her protectively as Yakone emerged from between her mother's crouched form, hobbling out into the fray.

The raven whined. 

Shapes moved about her, colorless and almost without form as her vision blurred, darkened. She wondered if there was a difference between the clutches of sleep and of death. What was death but slipping into a deep sleep? Had Miraak's adrenaline faded into a peaceful acceptance as he exsanguinated?

A muzzle near her face, a long tongue sweeping over her ears. Soft crooning voice. A pair of eyes, bluer than anything she'd seen before, blinking kindly at her. The warmth of someone curled nearby. The pungent smell of meat, so enticing it made her stomach gurgle audibly, but she couldn't find the strength to lap it up.

It was calm, serene. If the strangers intended to wake her with their ministrations, she knew it not. She was being lulled into drowsy contentment, finally resting peacefully for the first time in--gods, how long had it been? When had she last been this happy? As a child, perhaps. Snuggled with. . .

"Ram. . .Euron. . ." The whisper slipped from her lips before she promptly fell asleep.

last post here! <3

It was clear that the girl would not be getting up to eat anytime soon, but Moorhen still stepped back to allow Coelacanth space to do what she would. With her keeper close by and taking charge of the situation, the dark girl finally found the time to take stock. They had a mother and a young pup, probably tired from the journey, and one pale stranger, completely out for the count.

"Tek to den," she said to the Shadow, her voice gentle and coaxing as she indicated the mother and child. She moved to lie near Maegi. "I will stey. Guard girl. Feed and caare."

Worry for the girl swirled in Coelacanth’s eyes. She met Moorhen’s gaze with a steady current of trust and understanding, and turned her attention back to the weak little ghost as a stab of anguish creased her delicate facial features in a visible flinch. She had found Aditya this way —

— no! —

— and before that, Komodo had found her this way —

— no! —

“Good lamb,” breathed the sheepdog, raining kisses on her lamb’s crown.

Coelacanth had triaged the wayfaring threesome to the best of her ability. It was clear to her that the weakened and ill-used guppy was in the most critical condition; but she worried too about the pale, inkblotted babe who sheltered so quietly in her mother’s shadow. Unfortunately, her clinical eye made the raven — her onetime friend! — dead last on her list of immediate priorities as a fully grown, full-blooded wolf in her prime. It was the nervous, beseeching whine that finally clued Seelie in to the sandstone-and-onyx female’s need for reassurance and care.

Coelacanth’s greeting toward Reigi, when it came, was threaded through with an apologetic air — a sort of, “Sorry about that! How have you been?” She did not think to be cautious or ask permission before approaching, her lips and nose tracing the lean, athletic lines of the raven’s silhouette. She seemed healthy, if anxious, and the Aralez snuffled as comfortingly as she could. Trotting a few steps away, she “barked” — but the motion bore no accompanying soundtrack. “Come with me,” she begged with a dip of her forequarters into an elegant bow, an inquisitive tilt of her head. She hopped backward a few paces, then swept in and between, her sprightly sheepdog paws cutting an illustrative circle around Reigi and Yakone. “You and you, follow me!”

A wheedling whine danced upon her lips. “Please?”

It meant the world to Reigi that Moorhen agreed to stay next to the ghost-girl; she would've liked to have done it herself but the travels had exhausted the new mother and likely her child, as well.  It was a lot of change for such a little one, and she'd have to get used to it being just the two of them for now.

She slow and gingerly leaned to mouth the base of Moorhen's ear before licking her chin, and then turned her attention upon Coelacanth.

How charming!  She was exactly as she had remembered — balletic, graceful, intuitive.  She stood and grabbed Yakone and trod after Seelie.  Normally she would've been met with more enthusiasm, but Reigi was more than drained.

Nibbling gently at the base of Moorhen’s skull where it sloped down into the thick fur of her nape, Coelacanth acquiesced. It was perhaps an oddity to the Bearclaw visitors that she would jump to obey her subordinates, but the seawolves weren’t altogether conventional when it came to hierarchy. In a critical situation such as this, it was natural for Moorhen — who seemed to have the situation under control, though Seelie didn’t know yet of her relationship with her Venninne — to command her Aralez. The sheepdog felt a surge of pride at how calm and collected her lamb remained, and very gently would gather the winter raven and her snow bunting with an eloquent nose pressed to each hip — one gamine and dark, one puppy-fluffed and pale — and lead them to freshwater to quench their thirst. Only once they were situated would she return to the water’s edge with a mouthful of berries for Moorhen to coax the ill-used ghost to eat when she woke.