Wheeling Gull Isle Just because I play the piano

“Yes, very quiet. Not sure yet if that is a good or a bad thing, to be honest.”

His gaze followed hers towards the horizon and for a moment he watched the waves roll in, a handful of seagulls soaring to the east, nothing but white specks in the sky. She calls his attention back though at the mention of a spar and like tumblers in a lock the thought clicks in to place perfectly with that little nagging desire to do something that was still rustling around in the back of his mind.

“Love to, actually.” It’s been awhile since he’s been tested, even longer since he’s had a real fight of any sort. Life with the humans had made him soft in many ways, and it would be good to get back in to practice. Just in case.

He stretches and shakes his coat out, taking a few steps back out in to the open and tilts his head to the side so the thick fur around his neck parts enough that the metal collar around his neck can be seen, “Mind the collar though – not as sharp as it used to be, but serves it’s purpose yet.”