Wheeling Gull Isle the story is in the soil, keep your ear to the ground

The howls of the two men slipped away over the seas, likely heard by no others than the quartet present. He wasnot really sure how to handle the knot that sat deep in his gut. He’d known the moment he saw the island that whatever news it held would not be good — but it held no news at all! Komodo’s head swam with the possibilities, and none of them seemed to be what he wanted, so the earthstalker grit his teeth and turned to receive Sirimiri’s affections, having realized that the siblings were talking together in his periphery. 

“Yeah,” he concurred with their conjecture, though he had not been a true audience of it. He had confidence in them, and in this moment he trusted them to know the best course of action. His own negative was stifling and he knew he needed to cleanse; for how could he work his magics if his psyche were so off balance? It was always in these cases that his window to the heavens closed and he would find that no longer speak to the gods — that, simply, was unacceptable. 

Komodo turned his back to the churning seas, facing the others of his group. Finding Wheeling Gull Isle had never been the main purpose of his return (and their introduction) to these wilds, but it had been a side quest that he was particularly excited about. What now?

“There’s uh cave, ‘way from th’beaches,” he drawled, watching the route to their old shelter materialize in his mind’s eye. Though he had not been its discoverer, the santana knew it well. It housed the stormborn wolves during the great storm — housed Coelacanth when she did not know who she was; housed Aria and kept her safe from all dangers — and now it would house them, and only them. “It’ll be uh good place t’pass the nigh’.” and with that, he made to lead them to the cave, not expecting to hear any disputes.