Wheeling Gull Isle i'm the moon

With only a week remaining until their pups are born, the Gampr answers the summons alone. His short-cropped ears press forward, as much as they can, anyway, and he chuffs warmly to greet Rokig as he makes an appearance. Broad paws make little sound on the soft ground. “Hello,” he says simply, looking over the tiny, silver-eyed female who stands beside and just behind Rokig. She is thin and underweight beneath the thick fur, and his golden eyes fill with concern. The recent scent of fish lets him know that she’s at least eaten a little recently, and her actual scent says she is healthy despite needing a meal or two.

“Welcome to Wheeling Gull Isle.” He keeps his voice even and gentle, and crosses the distance to rub shoulders with Rokig. He’d meant to make contact with the Tuttava before now — he and Seelie had discussed how they’ve come to depend on the stocky male — but he figures now is as good a time as any. “I see you’ve met Rokig, Seawolf,” he says, in that instant throwing away the male’s old rank to make room for the new one. It’s a promotion they’ve been meaning to make, and he grins at the tan-eared fisherman with a congratulatory huff.