Wheeling Gull Isle and her body got that ass that a ruler couldn't measure

@Titmouse

After another eventful trip to the mainland, Moorhen was finally ready to rest for a few days back at home. Although it hadn't been all bad, she still felt terribly about leaving the island so often, even if - at times - it seemed as though she really couldn't stop herself.

The first thing she did was comb the edges of their land, making sure no unfamiliar scents were present. She'd been keeping an eye on the sandbar when she was in the area, but she hadn't been able to watch it the whole time she was gone. It seemed, though, that no one had come or gone aside from herself and Driftwood. That was a relief.

Feeling a bit more like she'd be able to rest, now, Moorhen returned to check up on some woodpile. To her confusion, there were now seashells and new branches and other odd things decorating her master work. She wasn't sure whether she liked that or not, but decided to leave them be and see if anyone owned up to their crimes. Upon investigation, she found Driftwood's scent in several damning places. She'd thought so. Still, she continued to sniff around the pile, making sure nothing else was out of place.

Most of the beach had been cleared up, with a lot of the debris being massed together in to Moorhen's pile or in neighboring piles further off; he'd tried to keep an eye on it while she ventured to the mainland, but wasn't nearby when she returned. Lately, there was the heavy scent of another wolf growing stronger and stronger on the pile. At first Titmouse was concerned about it — so he'd staked out the pile and recognized Driftwood passing through a number of times. There was no reason for Titmouse to be so defensive of the pile - it wasn't his pile, and he certainly didn't have a strong connection to Moorhen (a friendship, he'd like to think, but that was all).

Still, there was something about the behavior that bothered him.

The boy was on his way across the beach when Moorhen's scent blustered to him, and he picked up his pace, excited to see her again. He didn't miss the mainland very much. In fact, thinking of the sandbar and what lay beyond only made him remember Maegi, and their last meeting. It hurt to think about that. So, he distracted himself with purpose (patrols) and focus (Moorhen was home!!).

He noticed her nosing about her pile from a distance, and slid closer with his tail wagging - letting out a friendly (wheezy) yip to let her know he was there and happy to see her.

Despite what mix promised on Disco, Moorhen was not grumpy when she turned toward the sound of another's arrival. Well - actually, she was a little grumpy. But when she saw that it was Mou and that he seemed happy to see her, she gave a wag of her own tail and turned to greet him. Her legs quickly ate up the distance between them, and she ran a leathery nose (hers, if you were worried) through the fur of the male's pale cheek to get up-to-date on how he was doing.

Healthy. Seemed to be eating well enough. Needed to brush his teeth.

"How are you doing?" she asked, finding that this method of obtaining knowledge left something to be desired, in this case. Her words, because she'd said them many times, were both smooth and correct. And, seeing as she'd never had a real conversation with the male, she maybe expected his response to be smooth and correct as well.

She came to greet him eagerly, and again he thought of Maegi — was reminded of the glee her presence brought him. But this was different from that. With Maegi there was always a pressure - a sadness, something they shared, as if both of them had fought through trauma and united through it. Maybe that was accurate. With Moorhen, things were simpler. She probed at his cheek and inspected him, but there was nothing aggressive about it, nothing sad or weighted. She seemed so free by comparison.

He did not anticipate any questions. When she asked after him, Titmouse gave a little shrug of his shoulders; he'd much rather continue with the wild investigations, considering his lack of a voice. Not wanting to disappoint, he tried to speak anyway: Steyin' beezy. Kep' an eye on da pile — yoh pile. Fount you — fount dese, suddenly remembering a few of the additions he'd made, Titmouse zipped around her and after a little sniffing, found some of the sticks that held his smell. It took a second, because Driftwood's was everywhere, and discovering this tempered his exuberance. He hoisted himself to his hind legs to reach one of the sticks, but didn't wiggle it too much before he plopped down again.

Tit looked to Moorhen after that and turned the question back to her — Hau waz... Off-eye-land?

Moorhen's eyes narrowed when he approached her pile, pointing out some of his additions, but she didn't move to stop him, nor did she consider asking them to stay away from her stuff. It was just weird was all - everyone was acting weird. She was acting weird. Would things all go back to normal after her body did? Would Driftwood and Mou be content to ignore her once more?

"It was okay," she said with a noise like a shrug, thinking back on all the wolves she'd met. There'd been no purpose to her trip, so she couldn't exactly be disappointed about it... but it hadn't fulfilled her, and she was beginning to fear that nothing would. "I look for something," she confessed, moving past Mou to nudge a stray stick back into place. "But, um. Can't find. And I feel epty. Eempty."

And listless, and bored, and alone...