Wheeling Gull Isle The beach is too dry, where is the rum?

Against all odds, Wednesday still lived. She had even usurped Goliath of his rank despite her loss, and it was not something she took lightly. She would need to measure herself on whether or not she wished to take on the latest wolf above her... at the very least she was convinced she ought to wait some time, until she was properly healed. She had two wolves now that would kill for her, but she took the life debt she owed Erz most seriously. The woman would be repaid. Such a thing did not even require asking or telling.

The howl that summoned Wednesday distracted her from her observation of a fully grown sea creature. She couldn't identify it, and wasn't sure she wished to. Was it edible? Could it be caught? Any sea-dweller would know better than she... was it even worth asking? As of now, she had no plans to dive into the water and try to go for the finned, blubbery thing... better not waste her breath 'til the waters were warmer, or else she saw the thing on land.

Her strides took her to the wolf who had called. Wednesday adjusted her posture enough so that Ferahgo would know she knew her place, and that it was enough beneath him she did not think to contest it. His relationship with her greatest obsession was as of yet unknown, or else she might have approached him with some wounded pride on her already hideous visage. She smelled blood and looked to see what Ferahgo had killed, and with interest noted it was a wolf. Wednesday thought of Donnelaith for a moment, but there was not a scent upon the once-living thing that betrayed its location when it had breathed.

The cannibalistic she-wolf took a step toward the late Serpent and looked to Ferahgo, wondering what it was he had called her for. To dine with him? Or to bury the evidence?