Wheeling Gull Isle ≡ Invitations

She cascaded down a mountainside. Months of running and hiding to flee from the violence of her past have birthed new beginnings. There is a tinge of sorrow that clings to her face, but so does the hopefulness of things to come. 

  The wilderness that has begun to unfold before her is precious. Life is abundant and is seen in the verdant trees, sweeping blades of grass, and the blissful chirp of birds that sing their song to the morning sun. 

  The warmth of the cascading rays hold her in a gentle embrace. A smile forms across black lips as she looks forward. This was going to be a wonderful thing.

  The green and gold colors of the morning create a perfect ambiance and Isarda moves forward. She draws near the bank of a small pond and drinks deep. Tongue rolls across her maw to clear the droplets of water that have settled to her snout. Gently she scratches at her ear and looks around her. Where would she go now? What waited for her?

John had settled easily back into his, hopefully short, stay on the island. He would need to know what the Judah and Simeon wanted to do before he would leave for Rivenwood. 

He had set out that morning to gather lavender that he would take back home, when a scent drifted on the wind. A stranger, and a female stranger at that.
He cantered toward the scent, until it grew stronger, and a pale figure was idle hanging around a pond. She is thin, someone in need perhaps. He approaches gently, his eyes soft, his voice calming. “Good morning. What brings you here, to the isle? Are you in need of shelter, food?”

It is only a short while before she is made aware of the presense of another. She turns to face him, ready to run, and her ears crane towards the back of her head. This was her first time alone. Today would, hopefully not be the last of an adventure only just begun.

His coloring, albeit the black, is not so different from her own. Her head twists in curiosity as gentle baritones dance across their distance.

  He is kind...direct, but kind.

  "Have I overstepped?" a raise of the brow. Perhaps she had, but in all honesty she wasn't even mildly aware she had.

    She considers his question. Why was she here? Fate, perhaps. Her steps had been guided here, and she couldn't explain to him why. War? Death? A defining lack of courage? It didn't matter: She had arrived.

    "I'm alright," A partial lie. Both sounded wonderful, but she could take care of it later, perhaps. "My name is Isarda," She smiles to him now, "Would you care to tell me where I am, sir?"

She was ready to run, but she had no need. “You have not, there is no pack here. It has been disbanded for quite some time.”

She said she was alright, her name Isarda. A fine name, and she wanted to know where she was. His ears move forward, direct, as he gives her an answer: “This is Wheeling Gull Isle, once home to the pack of Sweet Harbor. It was a sanctuary. How it came to an end is another story, one as rough as the waves.”

It was not in fact that she was standing on another's pack land, but instead she stood on its gravesite. She wondered what had taken place. What historical events had driven them from this place? Did their numbers dwindle into obsoletion? Were they simply not strong enough to withstand the fire?

Isarda had not been.

  "I'm sorry to have brought it up," She nods her head to him in understanding. She needs to hear nothing further.

  "You don't look so homeless? Perhaps you've taken refuge elsewhere?" He appeared to be in good health. There was nothing about him that led her to believe he was a drifter. Then again, he was here, out in the open making idle conversation with one. Certainly she had misjudged the situation.

“It’s alright. The past is no longer.” A sad sort of smile grew on his muzzle, his ears flattening just a bit. 

“What was left of us have moved across these lands, eastwards to a bypass. Our alpha started anew, and it is a safe place. I have come in search of wandering packmates.” 

He looked her over once more, over her thin figure. The looks of a lone wolf wandering. 

“If you wish, tell me a little more about you.” 

Truthfully it could be regarded as humorous the way two strangers could meet in the open and divulge secrets to one another. Sharing campfire stories about their pasts. Usually they would part ways never to be seen or heard from again. She wondered if this would be the same.

  He was trying to find those that had been lost. That was noble of him. Maybe selfish? His own agenda to not be alone. She couldn't imagine him to be doing this out of selfish nature.

  What about her? That she had ran from her homes as the cries of her family dying filled the air? That the pungent odor of blood was something she would endure nightmares of for Lord knew how long?

  "I came from a good family and a lovely life, but there was a siege...and well," She looked away. The mental wounds were still so fresh. She had fled here, as fast as she could, as far as she could. She abandoned them, but this she could not bring herself to say out loud. She wasn't ready to face it, "I'm sorry. It's all rather very dark,"

From what she spoke next, the hurt became clear, and John’s ears flattened against his head. His eyes, wide with fear of what she had been through, how she did not tell him more. 

“You came here…? You must need rest, come, I will be sure you will eat.” He said, motioning for her to come, to follow him, if she would. He would at least make sure she was cared for. He would bring her to the lion’s den. “You may rest here” He told her, “I will bring food, to help build your strength. Should you choose to venture out from this place, you will need it.”

I fled here. Her thoughts are ambushed with what she should've done, and yet she argued that the past was the past and could not be undone. She was unscathed, healthy. She knew there were likely to be no survivors. She would say she had been lucky, but grief was...impressively overbearing.

He is quick to jump to the conclusion that he can be the one to help her. She is charmed at his immediate need to extend a hand to help someone in need. She is also mildly ashamed that she is the one in need. Still, she appreciates him.

  She follows him to a more remote location than she stood before (if that was even possible) and noted that it seemed more fashionable a place to spend a night; or a few.

  "You're exceptionally kind," Her expression is softened and she stares at him warmly now, "Why?" The word sprang forth without much thought. She had always known kindness within her family, but when it came to strangers she knew they had no reason to be kind. More so, she had known them to have an aggressive streak. He didn't owe her anything.

Why was he so kind? Why, that was a good question, fantastic, and it made him stop in his tracks, furrow his brows and think, think, think.

Was it because of his religion, to love others unconditionally, or was it his upbringing, or just who he was? Perhaps it was all of the above, and not one single reason. He led with this; “It comes natural to me. Everyone deserves to feel loved, cared for, appreciated, and this is what I wish to do. Perhaps it is simply in my nature to care for others. For no single being is more important than the other.” 

He then turned, telling her that he would only be a little bit as he went and got prey from a nearby cache. He grabbed a rabbit, because he imagined that not all wolves had a taste for fish.

He dropped it in front of her, “Enjoy. The island is plentiful.”

John was, perhaps, the gentlest man she had ever heard. She came from a place where others were kind, but there was still a certain edge to most--especially the males. John didn't seem like one who harbored any kind of aggression in his heart. Isarda enjoyed his company greatly.

He asked that she held tight where he had taken her and she carefully began arranging things. Making a nice sort of bed to lie in. She had a feeling this would be her refuge for a few days. Perhaps she would try to go with John? She considered this in his absence....

  It wasn't too long and he had returned with food, "Oh thank you!" The emptiness of her stomach becomes all the more apparent with the offering before her. She grabs hold of it and draws it near her own little space. Flesh tears away easily and meat is exposed. A bite, two, three. She slows down and stops with her hasty need and looks towards him, "Where will you go?" She doesn't fancy allowing him to leave her after only having just met, "Are there others like you? Men and women so kind," Perhaps the bed had been useless for her if he decided to leave...then again, perhaps not?

He allowed her to eat, turning his head away in an attempting to avoid an awkward moment. He easily gaze out at the sea, as its waves rolled, going on till it met with the sky.

When she spoke, he brought his head back around, facing her. “Of course. It’s a pleasure.” His voice kind as always, “There are few who live here now. This island had been home to a now disbanded pack. We relocated, but some chose to stay. I came in search of them.”

He gently shook his head, “Do not worry about this. You are safe. When my quest is finished, I will return to my home beyond the mountains.”

He didn’t go in further detail. None was needed, no explanation, for what has happened had happened and is almost a year behind them.

“What about you, Miss. Do you plan to travel, to stay here? This land is full of wolves. It is called the Teekon Wilds.”