John had gone off to the island, leaving the two yearlings on their own, but had promised to return as soon as he had learned more about the fate of the children he had been looking for. Esma had almost volunteered to go with him, since she did not particularly wish to stay alone with Boris. But in a battle between her fear of the vast, vast waters or hours spent in an awkward silence with another wolf, the latter option won. She saw her friend off as far as she felt comfortable going and then returned to the place they had camped out the previous night.
Even though the two had spent more time together, that void between them still existed. Esma wanted herself to be more talkative, to not give an impression of her being dumb, but she found great difficulty of starting a conversation. And the fellow - well - he did not help her much either. He too kept to himself and she could only guess, what was going on in his mind. Therefore now too, after giving a nod of acknowledgment, she went to lie down, resting her chin on a large piece of driftwood. There she lied, looking in the distance, trying to guess, what lied behind that thin line, where the ocean and sky met.
Ask before skipping. Esma was born 3/5/23
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