Wheeling Gull Isle the colours seem bright in the sky

@Driftwood!

 

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she'd grown found of exploring; the world was simple and safe when all were your family. and thus the guppy had sped back to the shore at the nearest opportunity, expecting there another hour of play in the waves, of finding shiny bobbles and keepsakes to lug back to the ever-growing pile she kept carefully tucked out of reach of the tide. 

yet that was not what she found. rather, a vole limped across the rocky strand, vanishing here and there, slow and cumbersome. she scurried after it quickly, having never before seen such a creature and enamored at once. nose wrinkled at the bitter metallic scent it gave off; two parallel scratches marred it on either side. she was too inexperienced to make sense of these; somewhere circling above was a sea-eagle missing its meal. 

her jaws opened a moment, contemplating eating the tiny creature. but it was hurt, like Mou was, and instead she scrambled along behind it, darting forward to offer a little lick atop its spine when she got in range, the vole intent only on slow journey inland and otherwise ignoring the pup as it planted licks atop it's back every few seconds.

Driftwood hadn't found a seashell that could quite measure up the the large scalloped blue he had cracked in twain, but he thought that today's treasure might at least come close. He carried it carefully in his jaws as he trotted across the shoreline, keeping a weather eye out for crabs. Instead of vengeful crustaceans, however, his eye spotted a small set of tracks in the sand that caused his ears to prick up in interest and his nose to come eagerly alive. This was a rockier stretch of the island's edge, and Driftwood had to stay alert to catch the more intermittent pawprints than he would have elsewhere, slowing him down and then eventually causing him to rely more on his nose than his eyes as he followed the tracks as they zigzagged and then converged with another set. Driftwood felt a bit of growing alarm, and tried to pick up the pace as his ears placed themselves on full sentry-duty alert. One of the trails looked and smelled like some rodent or other, but the one that had joined it looked like a wolf's paw...a very, very small set of wolf's paws. He glanced uncertainly about, but saw nor smelled neither hide nor hair of any larger guardian about. He was pretty sure even the bigger of the pups he had seen at the Mitexi (now that the technical very-biggest-pups were officially adults instead) were still too little to be out and about very far on their own. Who knew what sort of trouble they could get into?

His heart pounded as he spotted a small speckling of blood upon the ground, but his increasingly frantic nose reassured him that that, at least, did not belong to any canine. He whipped his head around as a small blur of motion caught his eye, but he turned away in disgust as he realized it was only some bird, enjoying the rising thermals off the sun-warmed rocks as it inscribed circles in the clouds. Driftwood was not interested in birds; he had much more important quarry in mind, and kept his focus on tracking the young girl whose scenttrail drew him onward even as the pawprints grew increasingly sporadic among the tumbled stones. Driftwood noticed with alarm that a few of those stones had awfully sharp edges, though; not only did the thought that the pup might hurt herself upon them scare him, he also considered with concern and growing alarm that Seelie and Stockholm would surely never forgive him if he let that happen under his gaze. His golden eyes widened as he crested a larger boulder and they at last rested upon the small, hopping form of a fuzzy little puppy, her motions distinguishing her somewhat-camouflaged coat against the wider expanses of tan stones.

His heart skipped a beat at her halting pace, at first: had she managed to hurt herself? She was moving pretty funny... It was with considerable relief that looking closer, he watched her hop along piecemeal behind the much smaller and slower vole, licking its back fur experimentally and dogging its tiny hurt strides. That explained it, then. Driftwood's dawning smile at the scene suddenly vanished, however, as just as he started to relax and lope up to check on the youngster nice and loose and easy, another blur of motion high above caught his eye. Driftwood dropped his now-forgotten precious shell with a yelp of warning as the eagle stooped down hard and fast toward the funny little pair. Driftwood's own paws were in motion before anyone could blink, and thankfully he was much closer to the little girl than was the eagle, but great `Ohiki was that bird quick...! Already in his mind's eye he could see the horror and carnage of his possible failure— Oh no, oh no oh no oh no— please don't let it become true— Forget the leaders; Driftwood wasn't sure if he could ever forgive himself if such a small and helpless pup was snatched up before him.

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the sea-eagle was persistent, unwilling to give up its quarry, especially after the addition of a second, larger bit of prey that had happened to tag along behind the first creature to escape its claws. the girl had just begun to pull the creature into her jaws experimentally, growing tired of its pained pace, when the flash from above had her jaws tighten around the creature with fear, whirling for shelter as instinct bade her do; diving towards Driftwood with a cry that was silenced by the vole in her maw. the thing emitted a squeal in her stead, and as her paws cut into the sharp rocks painfully, her tail curled tightly around her rear. 

eagle twisted away silently, rising quickly on a thermal as it obviously thought better of drawing too near to the bigger wolf. petrified, the girl huddled between the male's forelimbs, vole dropped carefully to the earth. it lay there stunned as the girl whined, both in fear and at the hurt of her cut paw pads. whines grew in volume as the vole no longer attempted to make a break for it; its chest rising and falling rapidly. despite her own quaking, she offered a few more licks to the creature; surely they would help it as they had helped Mou!

Driftwood's own paw caught and tore a little on one daggerlike protrusion as he went flying across the treacherous rocks, but although it left a bloody trail of his own behind him and caused him to skid a little more instead of halting where he'd intended, Driftwood paid the scratch no mind. An open-mouthed snarl of fury billowed from his throat as he bared his teeth and lunged after the eagle. No one was going to hurt this pup on his watch! Except the pup herself, it seemed; another stab of fear lanced through him as his nose caught the scent of her blood as well. It wasn't a great day for anyone who had hoped to escape it unscathed, really.

Close, but no cigar: the eagle screamed back at the larger wolf that had cheated it of its meal before it rocketed off once more. Despite the way his forepaws launched themselves up into the air along with his flashing teeth, Driftwood didn't catch so much as a feather, himself; a lone bit of down fluttered to the rocky ground after the bird, very nearly the only sign that it had ever been there as it disappeared up into the clouds once more. —Good riddance! he roared after it. Growling and abristle, Driftwood lowered himself back over the youngster and her prize, staring up at the sky a minute longer to make sure the feathered fiend wasn't circling back around for another attempt before Driftwood smoothed his layers of brown fur down again and sandy flews back across his pearly whites and poked a concerned nose down beneath his own belly. He gave the small girl a once-over with worried eyes, noting in passing that this was the selfsame one who had glued herself so stubbornly to Stockholm's broad limb the other day. He had heard a noise of some sort from her a moment ago as she dived for cover: had that been pain, or merely fear? Had those wicked talons gotten a piece of her? Driftwood's pounding heart was relieved to see two intact bright button eyes lurking in his shadow, two broad expanses of fluffy ear and one whole black and shining nose. Well, no, not entirely correct: there were four eyes, four ears and two twitchy noses he could see, but for the moment he dismissed the quivering half-curled vole and tried unsuccessfully to count Fern's little limbs from the awkward angle he had his head tucked down at.

Not bad, he said after a moment, when he saw there plainly was at least 95% of a puppy in one piece down there and he could trust himself to speak again. She was starting to whine, and difficult though it was to navigate his own limbs without stepping back from the youngster entirely, Driftwood hobbled his forelegs back a few half-paces and craned his neck to try and offer her a reassuring nuzzle. You got the little squeaker and got away, although you're going to have to bite down a little harder than that if you're planning to eat it. All right? His heart melted as he watched her tenderly licking the small animal for comfort, although he rather mistook the source of motivation. Obviously this little would-be-huntress had gotten a little more than she had bargained for, today! ...Driftwood was just glad that he had managed to get there in the nick of time. And that his focusing on the scared little pup with the plover-colored fur was enough of a distraction to keep his own legs from turning to jelly, now, in the aftermath. Where was that scent of blood coming from, though—not his own, that he dismissed impatiently as his nose alerted him of it again, but the hint he could taste in the air that had escaped from little Fern's veins? He hoped that if he kept the conversation as light and cheery as he could, she'd let him nose her over closer and see where her hurts lay. At least it didn't seem like she was bleeding enough to have lost a limb, even if he fretted just a little still that her little tail and his own body was getting in the way of maneuvering to where he could count all her much-stubbier legs and make certain.