Wheeling Gull Isle not all girls are made of sugar and spice and all things nice

Moorhen finished her appraisal of the girl and stood still to listen to her explanation, ears quivering upon the familiar name. She was a Corten, then. The seawolf blinked owlishly at the younger girl, bemused by the emergence of yet another of the Shadow's line. Sometimes she was jealous of the small army of family the Aralez had amassed, but the bitterness could never really take hold, since Coelacanth shared her family freely, and because the mark of Doe was on both their souls.

"Prii," said Moorhen, glad to have something simple to call the other girl. She gave a hesitant wag of her tail, knowing she ought to be friendly, if it was family on their shores. "I am Moorhen Cairn," she introduced, the words feeling clunky and unfamiliar in a mouth more fit for growling. "Moor."

There - they were friends, now. "Did you come to stay?" she asked curiously, "or for visit?"