Wheeling Gull Isle blackened was the banshee's wail

A knot of tension built between his shoulder blades as he watched the brackish canine hone his attention onto him, especially when such a creature started towards him. Caught between a moment of flight and fight, it would have seemed that the shoreline decided to lend Roach a hand. He watched the wolf trip up in a way, stepping across the mussels that littered the high tide line and no doubt extending some form of harm. It was enough to prompt the coywolf into action and as his head lowered, a growl slipped out from between his parted jaws.