Wheeling Gull Isle Ocean was your lover’s name

phone post

The dancer had taken to sleeping closer to her leader's den, a place that would allow her the best view of the children that always tried to escape from their one and only home. The gulls were the reason for her eyes being open, their cries were distracting and even annoying to someone trying to get as much rest as possible before she needed to look after the growing children of the pack.

A cry struck her, deep in her chest it stabbed. She knew that sound and who it belonged to, the only boy of the litter. The last to rise but the first to claim a spot at the mill bar, his cries grew and she was at the mouth of the den in an instant. A cooing came from her lips as she looked over the little one, her tongue coming to sooth him in an instant.