Wheeling Gull Isle sea fever

As was common in his bloodline, King had immediately begun to feel possessive over the wolves that most often surrounded him. In the past, it'd been his mother and father, his sister and brothers - but today, it meant the ever-enigmatic Cascada, and the skeletal waif he had no name for.

It was the waif he sought out, a still-living albatross hanging from his jaws. It'd been badly injured during the storm, and there'd been almost no sport in snatching it off the ground. Feeling thusly unapetized, the male decided that the best thing to do with it would be feeding it to his waif, who always needed a good meal.

He approached her loudly, but carefully, knowing she did not appreciate being startled or snuck up on. King made sure she heard him coming from far away, and kept his pace slow so to that she had time to get used to the idea of his presence. And then, before he could see her, but when her scent became strong enough that he thought she'd be near enough to hear, the male set down his gift and called out to his waif.

"You there, Pookie? I brought food."

Where the would normally be an exclaimation point, declaring his manliness at having procured a meal for his waif, King kept his voice warm but disinterested, not wanting to excite her too much.