Wheeling Gull Isle Not sure who I am

Maude frowned at the numbers of Ferahgo's crew. Only four or five now? She remembered that there were at least a score or so that followed Ferahgo back in Tortuga. Hundreds of wolves lived in the pirate cove at least. Here, they were all scattered. Alone. Stranded. Slim pickins' 'ere, eh? She said, recalling her trek to follow Ferahgo north. Not many packs on the shore — most of them were inland, she would think. The boy—wench shuddered at the thought of solid, brown ground. Disgusting.