Wheeling Gull Isle where the wind’s like a whetted knife

He'd wandered south, skirting the trail of @Adeline. Sometimes he saw her, and called out in greeting, but for the most part, they were on two separate journeys that happened to follow similar and intersecting paths. Still, it'd become a comfort to catch her scent on the breeze, and sometimes, late a night, he wondered if she, too, was lying awake, wondering what he was doing right then.

It was on one of these late nights that King felt a crackle of something roll down his spine. The male leapt to his paws, wondering what was going on. Nothing had changed, except, perhaps, for a slight shift in the breeze. He stood a moment longer, ears swivelling uncertainly. The wind combed soothingly through his fur. A soft breath fell from his maw.

With a quiet grumble, he settled down once more, tucking his nose into his tail and letting his eyes flutter shut.

He did not sleep at all, that night.