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Koi and Sixgill basked in Moorhen’s roughhewn affections, jostling one another with drunken exuberance until at last their greeting devolved into a vigorous wrasslin’ bout. The former Aralez watched lovingly as they tumbled and rolled a couple of meters away, Koi’s ear in Six’s mouth, Six’s paw in Koi’s mouth, like some fluffy, misshapen ouroboros. When Moorhen spoke — a staunch, “I will keep looking,” — Seelie met her sister-daughter’s bloodred gaze with a soft dog-smile-squint and flashed her feathered tail with an air of warm goodwill. “Good girl,” she breathed as gently as she could, outstretching her muzzle to kiss the girl’s cheek, the corner of her mouth, the hollow of her chin. Her smiling mouth quirked even more visibly at the echo of her usual greeting, “Peace home.” She misinterpreted it, believing that Moorhen was announcing her own intention to go — but the concern that stirred intently in those ruddy mahogany eyes helped decode the sentiment.

With a firm nod, “Careful,” Shadow echoed, very solemnly, finely-sculpted head tilting to the side as a soft, lilting whine of invitation stirred in her throat and wisped from her nostrils like dragonsbreath. “Moorhen wish come?” she asked more explicitly, for there was always room in Seelie’s life for the banded Cairn, and if the Agarwaen was fresh and not too tired, the sheepdog would welcome her company.