Wheeling Gull Isle Bring them home

He wouldn’t have known he wasn’t alone if it wasn’t for the scent that rode the ocean breeze. Yet, he stood in his place, his ears swiveling, before he turned his head to look. Whoever was here was hiding well. If he couldn’t see the resident unknown to him, perhaps his voice would find the ears of his spectator.

“I am John, formerly of Sweetharbor. I am here in search of missing sons.” He called out in a gentle voice.