Wheeling Gull Isle Cordelia

As dawn broke, so did the hazy mist of fog, though it left behind a shimmer of frost that lingered on the grass that had already begun to turn yellowish. The leaves had changed, and were dropping softly, but hadn't yet all fallen at once. Thresher liked Fall, she decided, as she strolled out into the morning light, blinking softly to adjust her gaze to the light and push away the sleepiness that still held a pleasant, bleary half-smile on her lips. She didn't care for the cold, but it wasn't too bad by the time the sun came up all the way. It would melt the frost away, but the wind was something to contend with. Living out by the ocean's edge, the wind would have a cruel bite to it come winter- but that was something Thresher had yet to experience so for the moment, ignorance was bliss. 

She dipped down into a stretch, pulling her long, slender legs before her and arching her short back, raising narrow hips into the air. She yawned, curling her pink tongue against her bottom teeth, and rose, shaking her fur out to fluff it up and guard her from the cold. She was not the adventurous one of the pups, but as she began to progess toward her teenage years, she'd at least become a bit more comfortable exploring on her own. The words she spoke were still few, far between and often rarely above a whisper, but always in kindness. She wasn't the first to wake- in fact, she was the last to leave the comfort of the den, and no one was immediately visible in the area, but she was still comforted by the scents that hung on her pelt, and the fact that the place they lived was guarded by the ocean; an impressive and intimidating barricade with only one narrow passageway which was frequently guarded. Feeling comfortable on her own for the time being, she began to mosey along, investigating scents here and there, and stopping to sniff a fallen leaf eveyr now and again. The world was her oyster- and she was happy to take her time exploring it.

Driftwood raised his long nose up to take another, somewhat apprehensive sampling of the wind, even as he wondered if the weather would soon turn into too terrible of a beast to contend with, one that would chase him away from his seashell-hunting. He blinked into the wind's occasionally cruel and toothy lashes and then shrugged to himself. If it was to be so, then there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it...except to collect as many shells as he could, as diligently as he could, before the wintry weather really set in. But that didn't mean he had to keep staring into it until his eyelashes froze and eyeballs watered with the cold. He faced his fuzzier rump toward the wicked breeze's brunt and angled himself a little more inland as his face dropped to let his eyes rove across the sands once more with renewed intensity. 

Possessively he scuffled the two smallish finds he'd already claimed today in closer to his other paw before reaching out to carefully scrape at the sand. Driftwood beamed and carefully reached out to snag the scalloped shell between his eyeteeth. But then his head jerked up in startlement as he was pulled from his shell-scanning reverie with a sudden flash of movement in the forest beyond. He grimaced nervously as the shell threatened to totter right out of his jaws, and took a moment to grip it more securely but still with overcautious delicacy before he let his attention be drawn to the trees once more. The horses didn't come to this more-thickly-treed area of the island, he didn't think, or else he might have been more nervous as he searched among the tall dark trunks with eyes, ears, and nose all on full alert. He relaxed into a grin and wagged his tail wide as he caught a better look at the creature just before the mercurial wind delivered her scent straight to him. He picked up his paw high and wide of his other two shells before he came trotting over, still carefully clutching the latest and largest of his scavenged finds. As he reached the dappled shade of the trees, he turned to the side a short distance in front of the youngster and gingerly put the brown scalloped shell down before saying brightly, Ah! Thresher, isn't it?! My, you're getting big! And out wandering the island alone, today?

 He grinned down at the pup as he blithely wagged his tail. It took a moment for him to think to add, Oh, right—I'm Driftwood. You may not remember me... you were much smaller last time I saw you, and when Seelie introduced you to us all!

WC: 968

As she meandered along, Thresher found that there was less to see in the Fall, when considering insects and small creatures. Smaller animals like mice and moles were beginning to den up a bit more, and kept to themselves, mostly tunneling about underground or gathering supplies to last them through the cold months. As for insects, there were very few to see- and certainly no more butterflies this time of year, which she took to be a pity and a conundrum; where had they gone? Did they hibernate too, and if so- where would they do that? She thought at first that perhaps they simply held onto a tree to sleep the winter away- but even then they could still be easily blown off...And she didn't suspect that a butterfly would ever be inclined to go underground where it would be sheltered quite well indeed. Perhaps, then, they didn't stay in the area at all, and had already left. Other insects were gone too- no bees, no grasshoppers, and ants weren't really interesting to her but they had begun to live underground more as well. She wondered, then, why it was that larger creatures were able to stay and weather the cold and the winter- if some of them lived on the scarce insects, then how did they survive the winter at all? Seeing these signs, which all pointed toward either migration or hibernation, she had to wonder why the wolves didn't do the same. Sure it wouldn't be all that bad, sleeping through the cold- or going somewhere nice and warm to spend those months rather than waking up with cold toes every day. Then again, with the winter coat she'd already begun to develop, she wasn't sure she could handle a warmer climate- she wouldn't be shedding those thick puffs of fur out until the spring.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught signs of motion and turned her head to see a male wolf approaching with something clutched in his mouth that hung out over his lip. At first she thought he might have caught a fish- but it didn't wiggle or sway in his mouth the same way a dead fish would. No, this was something much harder- and when he got close enough, she could see that it was a shell, and a pretty one at that. Thresher's inquisitive gaze more followed the shell he carried than the wolf himself as he approached, though eventually she did look to see his features and found herself slightly puzzeled. She wasn't sure she knew this fellow...But at the same time, he did look vaguely familiar. There had been other wolves in the pack when she'd been younger, but Thresher didn't remember them very well. Her parents did speak about past members- and fondly so- so she assumed that perhaps this one of the ones her parents had spoken about, one of the few who had drifted away at one point or another to pursue their life from a different angle. Regardless, he looked friendly, but that wasn't quite enough to put Thresher at ease.

She wilted slightly, shyly, as the male approached, but she didn't move away. Her tail wriggled excitedly between her hind ankles, a gesture of appeasement but it also showed a slight bit of worry, as she still couldn't quite remember who this fellow was. He stopped and put the shell down and her eyes followed it, remaining on the sandy item for a few moments before she looked up at him. Her trembling ears perked when he spoke her name, the tufted, felt tips touching together above her head as they did whenever someone said something that intrigued her. So he did know her...She felt a bit bad, then, realizing that she didn't know his name, nor could she exactly pinpoint a memory of him. She also felt a bit awkward when he pointed out that she was wandering alone, and she wondered if maybe he thought she was being a bad pup by doing so. His tone was friendly, but Thresher was a sensitive wolf, and even if the tone was kind, the words themselves made her do a double take. Was he disappointed? Would he tell her parents? She was certain she was allowed to roam the island freely...But what if this fellow thought that she ought not be alone? Would he judge her parents for allowing her to travel around on her own? Her heartrate accelerated a bit as anxiety crept its way into her consciousness, and she simply nodded, lips pulling toward a frown as she dropped her gaze. Her ears turned to the side, as though to express guilt. She didn't even stop to consider that she was likely making it look as though she wasn't even allowed to be out on her own...Even though she was. Self-doubt crept in all too quickly, as the girl was an open book, susceptable to influence.

He introduced himself, and she didn't recognize the name...Or did she? She couldn't tell. She simply nodded when he recalled the last time he'd seen her, and though she did remember the day, very vaguely, she couldn't remember the sea of faces that had been present at all, or anything else that had happened while she'd been there. She didn't think of that day often, so the memory had begun to fade considerably to the point where she wasn't sure whether her memories were real or if they were a dream. Quietly, faintly, she replied. ”Treasure,” She said, voice barely above a whisper. Coelacanth often called her that- whether it was a term of endearment or a mispronunciation she wasn't sure, but that was indeed what she likely would have been called at one point or another in front of Driftwood.

The little fluffball seemed to be shrinking in on herself, growing smaller and smaller. This was a bit of a novel experience for Driftwood, who blinked down at her as her adorably overlarge ears toppled sidewise into one another, the fluffy tips intertwining like a pair of grassy seedheads intermingling in the wind. He also saw her little tuft of a tail sweeping hopefully across the ground, though, and bit back an overindulgent smile at the sight. He crouched gently down to lay his belly across the sandy earth and put himself on the nervously excitable little one's level. He could empathize all too well with what he could guess was her current somewhat fraught emotional state.

His golden eyes flickered to her tufted ears as they airplaned out, and then back to her face. Treasure, he agreed in a conspiratorially hushed voice, not quite recalling at the moment that this was a commonly-used nickname for the girl. What he was busy optimistically thinking instead was that perhaps his whispering would lure the little creature in a little closer, and make her feel a little less potentially threatened by him thereby. ...I know your mom can't be too far away, but maybe it could be a good thing. Are you feeling a little scared? Hopefully not too scared, I'm thinking, because see—I totally had treasure in mind today. He stealthily moved his paw to nudge the mottled brown seashell's scalloped ridges a little bit closer, all the better to display them to the girl at their best possible angle. It was a fairly pretty patterning, if he did say so himself. ...See, I found this on the beach just now, a bit of buried treasure I sniffed out and dug up. I've brought some shells to your mother before to decorate her den with, and was very much hoping I might be able to find a treasure-hunting assistant somewhere around here who could help me look for more to deliver to her. Most of that decorative shell-gifting had been while Seelie had been confined to the birthing den, actually, in hopes of brightening up the space while she had to stay stuck there, but whatever. He was dead sure she wouldn't say no to an "extra" one gifted by one of her darling babies, in particular. You don't know where I might find somewolf like that, do you?

 Driftwood pulled a forlorn and almost comically plaintive face, looking helplessly to little Thresher as he awaited her reply with bated breath. Would she take the bait and join in on his little game? He so wanted her to be as happy and enthusiastic as every puppy really should be, especially around all the bigger packmates that he hoped she could soon better trust.

WC: 944

Driftwood was friendly...And Thresher had no reason not to trust him, really. She'd never been hurt by a wolf who she had trusted, and had not yet learned that wolves you trusted could sometimes be dangerous and hurtful. Thresher's insecurity came from somewhere that didn't exactly have a real reason to exist whatsoever...It wasn't from being overlooked or ignored, as her loving, doting, sweet parents had nurtured her and had chased away every fear she ever might have had. Her siblings were all quite different in personality, but they were still just as kind and compassionate toward her as she would ever need them to be. Though the boys were rambunctious, they were both her guardians, and her sister was her loving, empathetic support whenever she needed encouragement to step outside of her comfort zone. She could not have asked for a family to love her better- and her packmates had always been patient with her, even though she had been much more quiet than her siblings and somewhat reluctant to participate or speak. She'd been coming around a bit, with regards to her elected mutism, and no one had been pushing her. She was incredibly fortunate to have been born into a pack that would support her without pushing her too hard to step beyond the boundaries which she deemed to be comfortable.

So as Driftwood spoke, he engaged her curiosity, which was likely the best way to get Thresher's interest. Too much attention placed directly on her stressed the little girl out, even though she had no reason to be so sensitive. Instead, he began to tell her about a little mission he had, and that he wanted to find more treasure. Thresher had never seen buried treasure on the island before, and it had never occurred to her to dig around to try and find some. Unlike her brothers who were quite adept at getting their paws dirty, Thresher tended to stay fairly clean, simply because she didn't like the itchy feeling she got whenever sand got in her coat, or when the salt from the ocean water began to dry against her skin. But Driftwood wasn't suggesting that they get in the water, or even go too close to it. He indicated the beach, which was where he'd come from, and she did like roving along, watching the little hermit crabs scuttle away from her meandering footsteps. She liked moving in motion with the waves as she did so, side-stepping neatly as they rolled in an out, sometimes bounding gracefully to the side when a wave came up higher than she had expected. So naturally, Thresher was interested in what Driftwood was planning.

But when he asked for an assistant, her courage flagged slightly. He wanted someone to help him find treasure, and all she could think of were her siblings, who would likely be better at this sort of thing that she would be. Six and Grayling would definitely be better diggers than she would be, and more likely to enjoy getting dirty and send sand flinging in every direction. Koi too would likely excell at this task, and all Thresher wanted was for her siblings to succeed and likely surpass her. If they were happy, she was happy...But this time, she did feel a small tug of hope, as she wanted to be the one to help Driftwood search for treasure. Not that she didn't want to involve her siblings whatsoever, but she couldn't help but try and convince herself that maybe she was the right one for the job. Though the boys could dig quickly, maybe they might break whatever treasure it was that Driftwood had found. If it was more shells like the pretty one he'd presented her, theyr rough paws and claws might scratch or even break them, chipping away at the brittle edges. She couldn't have that happen- that would disappoint Driftwood, and Thresher definitely did not want to disappoint anyone.

And in the end, Driftwood wanted to take these things back for her mother, who she idolized beyond belief. If she helped Driftwood find the prettiest treasures, maybe she would get herself a little reward- a cookie maybe, which was the word that her parents often used to describe a reward of some sort. She did love it when a cookie was a reward, though she was more often not the one hanging back as her siblings vied for the prize. It would be anything from a perfectly smoothe stick- one likely tossed aside by the rugged waves of the ocean and perfect for chewing- or a small meal of sorts. She wondered what kind of cookie she might get if she brought back pretty seashells and stones to decorate the den with...But then again, she didn't need a reward as a prompt to do something for her mother. She simply wanted to see the look on her mother's face when she came back with treasures. Her mother would be so proud of her- and that in and of itself was motivation enough.

So finally, having pondered the situation quite seriously, she brightened up a bit, and nodded. She did her best to square up her shoulders which normally would have been quite easy for a wolf of her boxy build- but she wasn't the best at making herself look confident. The whispy tip of her tail still wavered from side to side between her hocks as she lifted her dark muzzle for a moment, and uttered her name as a volunteer. ”T'reasure,” She said again, looking up at him with hopeful, doleful eyes- just praying that he might not turn her down.

Driftwood was watching her not-quite-directly—with a full-frontal stare being a rude and assertive gesture among wolves as often as not, given the obviously easily-wilting violet here he didn't want to put too much pressure on her. He kept his nose slightly slantwise, and his eyes the same as he observed her obliquely, and kept his own enthusiastic reactions on a tight rein all the while so that when he caught the little flash of hopeful enthusiasm that went flickering across her face he didn't jump for joy or even stir his tail more than briefly, though his already-upcurving-once-more lips' smile couldn't help but grow a little wider yet. Good. She was interested in his little plot and if he knew pups at all already mentally preparing herself for a bit of an adventure. (And it hadn't been that long ago that he'd been a youngster himself after all, had it...? Oh gosh, he didn't even want to try and think about that one too hard: he felt so old, especially compared to this small shy puffball!)

She still didn't have much to say though. Of course not: that would make his job a little too easy, now wouldn't it. Yes... treasure, he said again, in almost-reverent tones. Though maybe it was time to change tactics slightly. There are two more, rather small seashells over near where I found this one. Do you think they're still there, or will the crabs have gotten them? Perhaps we'd better go check! Driftwood pursed his lips a little as he turned his head and scanned the beach. Locating the specks of shells upon the mostly-otherwise-blank sands, their darker silhouettes standing out readily against the sea-smoothed beach's face, he glanced sidewise back at little Thresher and gave a small indicatory nod in their direction. We'd better go guard them while we figure out where to best look next, hadn't we? Driftwood eased himself up and exaggeratedly stretched his long limbs for a moment, perhaps as if he expected to need to be all limbered up for tiny battles with crabs over his beach treasures in the span ahead. Truth be told, if Driftwood had actually thought there was any real chance that crustaceans were going to challenge him for ownership of the seashells whatsoever, he'd probably have caved in immediately and let the pinchy little creatures have as many shells as they darned well pleased... but his beachcombing today had shown him long stretches of lifeless sands, with few signs a single crab had ever even set foot upon the shore, much less any of them actually actively scuttling about.

Keeping half a weather eye on little Thresher to make sure she was staying engaged with his offer and starting to move herself along as his own feet began to at a quite leisurely pace take somewhat dainty, slow, and short strides (without trying to seem too much like he was obviously keeping things slow and easy so that Thresher could easily catch him up and even pass him if she so wished), he mused aloud seemingly as much to himself as to her: Now what color and size and shape of seashell do you think your mother might most like? Or your father, for that matter... do you think he likes shells too? In all honesty Drift found the big stoic Gampr to be fairly intimidating still on some level, and couldn't for the life of him have ever imagined him liking something so decorative and delicate as seashells. Couldn't even imagine asking him if he liked them. But mostly he was just trying to make quiet and unthreatening conversation about some of the wolves Thresher must know and love best in order to draw her out and make her feel more comfortable, all while keeping the direct spotlight off of her—for Driftwood feared that if he approached her own self too directly the little creature might shut down entirely. The bright harshness of a direct spotlight would not be best suited for everyone: some people might prefer to wait in the shadowy wings before creeping out onto the stage, and there was nothing wrong with that. In fact, there was something almost admirably self-effacing about it... assuming it didn't lead to the loud prima donnas getting all the love and attention. But Driftwood could even less easily imagine Coelacanth ever letting such a fate as to be overlooked to ever fall upon one of her own precious... treasured children, as to be overlooked or unloved in favor of the flashier and more loudmouthed creatures which insistently tried to demand her attention left and right.

... Treasure. Treasure— oh, right, Treasure! Driftwood was left marveling at his own blockheaded stupidity; had he had a heel of a hand with which to do so he'd have smacked himself in the forehead. Duh— DUH. You've heard Seelie directly call little Thresher Treasure before, now haven't you, Drift? Pay attention! Driftwood was a little overly distracted and preoccupied by his own forgetfulness, such that he didn't see the uneven rivulet carved into the ground right in front of him, nor did he realize the lovely, tiny yet seemingly perfect spiral shell he'd just spotted off to their right might have already been claimed by another. The first he tripped on, yet recovered from with relative quickness and ease—though he looked down and over to try and make sure Thresher's strong but rather stubby legs didn't encounter overmuch trouble with the small curvetting ditch of an obstacle. The second he approached with increasing speed and foolhardy eagerness—in part because, well, Driftwood didn't know that hermit crabs were really a thing. All the crabs he'd seen thus far had had their own personal hardened carapaces and no need of such additional shelter. And they hadn't had crabs of any sort back home where he'd come from, so far as he could remember anyhow. Nonetheless he might have had a bit of warning from the tiny poke-legged pattern of tracks leading up to the little peaked seashell, if he'd been paying sufficient attention. As it was he was rather like a child reaching out to take hold of the red-hot boiling pot as he stretched out his nose in its direction while saying brightly, Hey, Thresh— uh, Treasure, little treasure-hunter! Look over here— what's this?! Do you think Seelie might like this? Poor, foolish Driftwood, with no idea whatsoever of what a spot of trouble he might be about to get himself into.

WC: 822

--------------------------------------------------

At first, Thresher wasn’t quite sure if Driftwood knew that she was volunteering herself, rather than simply talking about the treasure again. She wondered if she should have articulated her name better, or tried to say it again, to insist that she should be the one to look for treasure. She felt slightly disappointed with herself, and whenever she felt disappointed, she often got discouraged from trying again. Had she not been one to place so much weight on her own shoulders, she might have simply shaken off her blunder and spoken again, insisting that she’d meant her name, rather than ‘treasure.’ Still, the point seemed to have gotten across, and he didn’t ask again if she knew of anyone who would be better capable of helping him go and look for shells...Thank goodness. If he had, Thresher surely would have melted into a sad little puddle of puppy.

He said that there were two more shells, but she was sure that there were more than just two...There had to be hundreds and hundreds of shells along the beach, ones that stayed for a few days, and ones that were brand new and that would have washed up just that morning. Thresher had taken note of shells before, but hadn’t done much with them except admire them. His invitation merited a silly little sideways jig from the girl, whose tail lashed in excited, circular motions. For one who had been so shy a minute ago, she certainly did perk up when she was officially included in something. Bashfulness forgotten, she gave into the dog instincts she had, she zipped this way and that, uttering happy, breathy little huffs as she did so, twirling on her hind feet gracefully before she fell back to Driftwood’s side, as he’d chosen to move a bit more slowly and more carefully than she had expected. It was rude to run ahead, unless given permission to do so, but Thresher could be proper if she wanted to.

He asked her what colour and kind of shell her parents would like best, and she pondered the question for a moment. As a pup who had grown up inside the labyrinth at the island’s heart, Thresher had no problem making her way along the sand and avoiding all shells that could possibly cause her to stumble, or cut her dainty paws. She was exceptionally nimble, and had played many games both with her siblings and by herself which had involved choosing where she could and couldn’t step. Naturally, she also knew to avoid stepping too close to the tiny holes in the sand, knowing full well that if she did, the clam that was buried down below would spit up water at her. It had been a fun game she’d played with her siblings- trying to get each other squirted by the buried clams- but she didn’t dare do such a thing to an adult. While she was playful, she did try to avoid being cheeky.

She had to convince herself to speak, yet again. She emitted a couple exhales that might have carried words, had she not chickened out. Biting her lip, she took a few more breaths, and finally managed to puff out a small breath, on it a word was carried but almost completely torn away by the sound of the water hitting the beach. ”Pearl.” It was a nickname they used to describe her sister, though she was unaware of the fact that some shells did hide pearls. What she meant, then, was a shell that was likely a dark blue shade that faded to grey. It would be simpler, she thought, to find a shell that looked like Six or Grayling, so she ought to find one that might be a bit more difficult to locate. Regardless, she was a bit shortsighted when it came to her explanation, as she hadn’t exactly explained what she meant by that word.

Driftwood almost tripped over a little stream of water, and he seemed to stumble a bit this way and that when looking for- or trying not to step on- shells. Thresher almost giggled, but remembered that it might be rude, especially if he stepped on a razor shell, as those ones could slice through a wolf’s paws easily. He called her attention to a small shell, but her ears turned back the moment she saw it. Having spent her entire life here, she knew the shell of a hermit crab the moment she saw one. Sometimes they were small- barely bigger than a barnacle or a periwinkle, but even the tiny ones could deliver a mean pinch and hang on for dear life. She shook her head violently, and her ever-wagging tail dropped like a flag might as soon as the wind cut out. ”No. Hermit!” She warned, biting her lip and hoping it wasn’t too late.

--------------------------------------------------

Driftwood grinned long and wide at the silly little excitable dance Thresher was engaging in as her tail windmilled energetically behind her. As she was zipping to and fro she was making some strange little sounds, huffy little breaths that for a moment started making Driftwood concerned, but really she wasn't seeming all that out of sorts, and after all she was dancing all about quite agily with very little sign of needing to slow down. Or heck, maybe she was just winding herself with her somewhat over-the-top display of excitement. He gave an appreciative little "woof!" of enthusiastic surprise of his own as she executed and expert little balletic twirl on the beach's empty stage. He still kept an ear cocked alertly for any further signs that her breathing might be progressing into something more actually distressed, however, as he himself turned his eyes back on the alluring little spiraled shell laying there on the sand a little ways before him. There was something about it too, though, that reminded him a little of Seelie, come to think... so yeah, Driftwood wasn't going to stay too worried about this just yet.

But then Driftwood was mildly concerned again as his attentive ears did indeed catch some minor possible distress a moment later, Thresher taking in and then exhaling some much deeper breaths than before. He cocked a surprised brow at the pup again however, turning her way just as he thought he heard her murmur, "Pearl." Had it just been a trick of the wind? Or of his imagination? While he was pretty confident they could dig up a decent number more shells without too much trouble, pearl seemed like it'd likely be stretching it. But...who knew. Maybe they could and would find an extra-shiny bit of treasure like that. Or maybe his ears were only playing tricks on him anyhow. Well, we'll see what we can find, here, he murmured, half to himself. He gave Thresher another quick once-over—yep, still bounding along happy as a clam, it seemed, moving freely and eagerly in pursuit of her assistant treasure-hunting job, here—before looking back yet again at his much-coveted little spiral shell. Not big, but quite perfect, and perfect therefore for a small puppy to be able to carry back to her mother in triumph— He was reaching out toward it already when a much louder and clearer resounding of "No. Hermit!" emerged from little Thresher. Driftwood stopped where he was in surprise, jaws half-opened to clutch at his prize—and then right in front of his nose, it moved. Driftwood pinwheeled suddenly back in a rather comical attempt to back himself up, to edit-undo his actions of a moment before and put some distance between him and the itty bitty hermit crab that was just poking itself out of its seashell home as he did so. It clacked one small red claw in alarmed warning and then zipped itself back inside, holing up tight and leaving the beach sands just as deserted and lifeless as before save for a tiny, barely-perceptible rocking of the shell which a moment later also vanished entirely.

Whuh, whuh, what?! managed Driftwood so very eloquently. I—whuh—when did crabs actually start taking over shells?! he lamented in befuddlement as he scooted back even further across the sands behind him. Well that was just not fair. He'd never even thought such a thing was possible! He looked down at little Thresher though to see how the little girl was taking all this— and to make sure that she, in turn now, was not reaching with guileless innocence out toward the already-occupied little shell. Although come to think it had been her warning that had saved him... and after all, growing up here and everything, Thresher probably was a little wiser to the potential perils of such crab-infested beaches. Driftwood suppressed a shudder, and then looked down on the youngster with newfound admiration. Why thank you, little one! That little critter would've got me right good for sure if you hadn't intervened. Good job, Thresher! He hid his still slightly shaken inner state deep as he winked chummily down at her. Have you ever thought about becoming a professional beach guardian when you get a little bigger? He reached out his long brown-and-sand neck to give her a somewhat rough affectionate nudge of relief, before his brain could catch up to his actions and forewarn him that perhaps this might still be a little overfamiliar, a little too much pressure for sensitive little Thresher. He also couldn't help but mutter to himself in the meantime, though, Who knew picking up these beached seashells could be so treacherous, as he started to question if perhaps he shouldn't find some other, safer alternative for Thresher to engage in after all. His eyes glued themselves to her little face once more though, to see if this might be something that might crush her hopeful spirits more than he would like... he wasn't sure he'd have the heart to do such a thing, truth be told! And it couldn't be all that too terribly risky... could it? At least he sure hoped not. Seelie and Stockholm might be kind but they would kill him if he fed their daughter to a bunch of crabs, he was quite certain, whether it had been accidentally or not.

WC: 946

--------------------------------------------------

Thresher winced slightly when Driftwood inquisitively went too close to the shell, causing the hermit crab within it exposed itself long enough to get its threat across before receding back inside where it would be safe. Clearly, Driftwood had either never seen a hermit crab before, or he hadn’t expected for one to be in that shell. Thresher had learned to be very careful when inspecting shells, as a great deal of them contained hermit crabs, or snails of some type- and those ones really smelled bad when you tried to collect them, as they would inevitably die when away from the salt water for too long. Hermit crabs weren’t generally too dangerous- but they could deliver a pretty nasty pinch, apparently. Thresher- an ever-careful creature- had managed to avoid getting pinched by them, and had learned to look for the telltale, slightly purpleish claw that they used as a sort of door to keep the rest of themselves from being seen from within the shell. If a hermit crab got too big for its shell, then its large, dominant pincer wouldn’t even fit inside. She had been told that they were shell-traders, and she liked that idea...That once the hermit crab got too big, it simply searched for a new shell- just like what she and Driftwood were doing then.

He was both surprised and grateful that she had warned him, and it made Thresher’s little heart swell with pride to have helped a fellow packmate. She had a keen interest in sea life, which had also given her a healthy amount of respect and fear for the creatures that lived by or in the water. Of course, she would go nowhere near the seals or sea lions that occasionally came near the shore, and she watched with wide eyes as occasionally she would see a whale breach to expel a jet of air above the surface of the water. If a group of humpback whales came close enough for her to see, she enjoyed thoroughly seeing their black and white flukes appearing above the surface before they went down for a deep dive. She could tell when they were about to dive, as well, before their fluke even showed. Though they would breach several times to get a new breath of air, the shape of their backs was different when they would dive below, exposing their great, mottled fluke into the air before sinking below the surface. It was as though their great spine would curve slightly, giving them the humpbacked appearance for which they had been named, before their small, arched dorsal fin would disappear and their massive tail fin would lift. Hermit crabs were much less impressive than whales or sea lions, but they were still quite cute, and she liked little things for the qualities they possessed as much as she liked the larger things.

Driftwood seemed surprise that crabs lived in shells, and she gestured to another one, scuttling down the beach- before a wave came in and pulled it away below the surface. They had a special set of gills, which would allow them to live underwater, so she did not feel bad for it. ”Hermit.” She reiterated quietly, and scanned the beach until she saw another one- a slightly larger one, and gestured to it. ”Make shells. Trade them.” She said, though her explanation wasn’t terribly descriptive. ”Hermit make shells...Grow...Trade for bigger.” She said, wishing then that a hermit crab would trundle along and demonstrate that very feat- but catching one in the process of doing so was very rare- even Thresher hadn’t seen it happen, but she had been told that it was so, so she believed it.

He thanked her and she giggled as he reached out, expecting the same, gentle as silk touch that she got from her parents, but instead got a brushing with his muzzle that was much more reminiscent of the way that Sixgill and Grayling played together. It didn’t hurt her, of course- she wasn’t made of fine china even though she might have looked as delicate as a teacup. He ruffled the fur up along the nape of her neck, but she simply shook her pelt out- her long, tufted ears flopping comically against the sides of her face, to settle the fur back down so that she didn’t have a mohawk. She waved her tail from side to side and tilted her head curiously when he asked her about becoming a beach guardian. She hadn’t put any thought into what she wanted to be when she grew up- as those days seemed so far away, and unlike her brothers, Thresher was content to simply live, rather than seek out goals and hunt or guard. She wasn’t sure she wanted to guard the borders along the land bridge, as strangers weren’t her favourite...But guardian of the beach had a certain appeal to it.

”What do?” She asked then, curious about hearing more of what this task involved. Thresher would likely be suited to become a Naturalist of sorts, as she took a keen interest in the life of the other animals that lived around her that were not wolves. She would still eat meat and hunt, as she understood that for her survival, wolves needed to kill. Still, that fact did not make her appreciate the wildlife around her any less, nor did it make her think that wolves were far superior to other animals. After all, even a tiny thing like a hermit crab could bring a wolf to tears- so even small things could be mighty.

--------------------------------------------------

Bwaha... I don't know if you, too, were thinking of this BBC video with that post, but I sure was!  X)  Go, little hermit crab conga line, go!

Thresher was doing her best to explain, but as a creature of so few words (unlike her talented writer!  ;D ) her explanations proved to be somewhat lacking in general. Driftwood was dumbfounded however as he followed her indicatory gesture of a paw to there espy another of the small scuttling beasts, trip-trapping along on clawed little purple-red tippytoes along the sand as it absconded with what he liked to think was one of his shells. Or at least the pack's! Why, that had been a perfectly good seashell right there that Seelie could have used, or perhaps Driftwood himself! But well, it wasn't like he was about to fight the little clawed beastie for it, oh no. If it came down to a confrontation with those snipsnappy little claws then this darned "hermit" crab could have the shell... even if Driftwood was himself still somewhat inclined to mumble resentfully about that little fact.

Driftwood's eyes boggled not just as the little hermit crab surfed back out to sea on the next lapping wave however, but also as Thresher succinctly enumerated how those selfsame little crabs... made shells? Made shells with their secret crabclaw arts-and-crafts kung fu powers and then traded them about, like some sort of weird and warped miniature crab economy with his shells used as all their coinage? Driftwood blinked in gape-mouthed bewilderment at the spot on the sand whence had a moment before rested a crab—damn they were quick and slick and sneaky little quiet bastards—a goggling gaze he transferred to the next, slightly farther-off hermit crab before Driftwood realized his mouth was still hanging there uselessly just a little ajar and closed it with a small quick snap of embarrassment. That crab was moving away from them, too; a little closer to the treeline and a little further from the waves than its last brethren, so that it wasn't about to go sailing the waves along with its comrade anytime soon, but even so it was distant and deadset on moving in the correct and dwindling direction enough that when Thresher had got her balance again and asked him a question Driftwood was able to tear his eyes away at last and pay proper attention to the puppy once more.

'What do' ...? Oh, um, well. Okay, so maybe "beach guardian" was a thing Driftwood might have made up entire out of whole cloth and only pulled out of his ass because he thought it might appeal to the young girl and give her a bit more courage. Whoops. He hadn't thought somehow that then he might have to explain the thing to her... shoot. Well let's see... A beach guardian, he said slowly and carefully, trying to let his crisp enunciation and measured speed sound like it was giving the thing more gravity rather than simply him trying to feel his way forward through the dark, a beach guardian is a very special sort of wolf, one who watches the sands for anything out of the ordinary, anything that might either enrich the pack and bring better things, or that might predict danger or catastrophe ahead. He wanted to make sure he made it sound exciting and glamorous, as befit a job that such a smart and talented young pup would be suited for, but also that he didn't, like... talk her into getting herself into any trouble here. Hmm—he hoped he covered his bases with: And anything like that that the beach guardian finds, she would make sure to report right away to one of the leaders, and make sure that either the Aralez or Overseer knew about it as soon as possible. It is a Very Important sort of job, one that requires the wolf who chooses it to take the responsibility seriously, and diligently keep up with it—you know how fast things on the beach can change, after all, depending on the winds and waves and weather, right? Here he paused and scanned Thresher's little face closely, trying to make certain he wasn't overdoing it. Or underdoing it, for that matter. It's the sort of job that requires a careful and thoughtful wolf, he added, thinking that perhaps this would entice Thresher more and make her realize she had some special talents, here, that made her stand out among the rest of her litter, no matter how quietly she might deploy them or how easy they might be for some wolves to overlook, one who'll make sure they don't overlook anything important and gets all the details remembered right for the sake of the leaders and pack both. It's like a very special sort of scout that only islands like Wheeling Gull would have. Whoa...Driftwood was almost convincing himself, here, that this was actually a thing, or perhaps ought to be. He was sure though that Seelie, and most probably her mate Stockholm too, would be more than happy to help their daughter find a special little job of her own like this, one that utilized her talents and motivated her as well as bolstering her confidence... assuming this whole "beach guardian" type of thing, or something similar to it, actually appealed to the girl. But Driftwood at least thought he had caught a flash of genuine interest in her eyes a little bit ago at the possibility... he let his own eyes rove across her face to check and see if he could spy it there again, and how deeply its vein might run if so.

I LOVE BBC VIDEOS!! hahaha!

Thresher loved every aspect of being a beach guardian, and it sounded like she might be perfect for the role. She had already proved herself in the incident with the hermit crab, and had saved him from having his lip cut by tiny pinchers. He seemed to be interested in their habits, which Thresher knew quite well- but hadn't really found the words to explain. Instead of asking her to reiterate, though, he seemed to understand more or less what she was talking about as he watched the crab steal one of his collected shells away. She smiled softly; maybe Driftwood would make a good beach guardian too- and become the official gatherer or shells, to give new homes to the little hermit crabs. 

"Winds and waves and wetter," She echoed softly, nodding sagely. The leaders of her pack would need to know those things., to predict if a storm was coming and if the family would have to move further inland on the island, to where the great blue spruce stood. Thresher continued to nod along with what Driftwood said, and she felt quite sure that it was a job she could handle. He didn't exactly tell her she was suited for it, or that she should go for it, so she wondered if maybe he was considering it for himself. She  poked her little nose against his foreleg tentatively. "You?" She asked, then, looking up at him with questioning eyes. Would he go on to be a beach guardian? He seemed to know an aweful lot about the trade!

She liked spending time with Driftwood- he was friendly and entertaining, and helped build her confidence up. If there was such a thing as beach guardian, she would have to go for it- and even if there wasn't, she was alright with that. She could still be a beach guardian without having to have the official title.