Wheeling Gull Isle a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied

As Komodo’s tenure on the island lengthened, the man felt himself grow more at ease. He was pleased with the quality of wolf he was surrounded with; those he had met, anyways. Even still, the sandbar tempted him as it glittered gold beneath the water’s surface, looking clean and innocent as if it did not just rage and revolt against all the life that lived upon it; but the island was large and diverse and life-giving. The exploring he had done led him to believe that the spit of land was very much capable of sustaining them. It was green, with shelter and prey and Axolotl had found abundant fresh water — it was a land of plenty, they knew where to look. 

His days had been filled with recovery and tending to the wounded, but much of his time was only spent around the wolves he sheltered with— there were others from the storm, knew they were there — he saw them. They must find each other, to band together and experience the security that wolves felt in numbers; to employ their skills in the most efficient. There was nothing else they could rely on other than themselves

— oh, and the gods. Of course. Right.

Komodo still hadn’t seen Ixchel since she had braved the tides, nor the masked woman from the beach who absconded off with a girl much smaller… and Aria, where was she? — and he, feeling a sense of responsibility over these wolves, began to fret. Perhaps they were hurt, as most wolves who washed up were injured in one way or another. In this way, the hale and healthy earthstalker considered himself lucky; he had traversed the ocean on his own volition, which was much more preferable than being vomited upon the land by the anger of the gods.

Actually, it was this realization his imbued his spirit with boldness and the brute decided could not wait no longer. He hauled in breath to his expansive lungs, tipped his chin towards the placid summer sky and gave a deep and bellowing call. Come to me, it rang — the message intended for the ears of the three females he knew of, but open to anyone within earshot. Come to the beach.