Wheeling Gull Isle hike up your skirt a little more

His trip had taken longer than intended, but the earthstalker did not give it a second thought. The man had faith in the stormborn wolves; that they would not only survive but thrive in his absence — and he was right. As Komodo pressed his dark, leathered nose into the gritty beach sands, he was able to pull forth the dank scents of wolves new and old. The group had grown, in more ways than one. Good.

Komodo had not necessarily succeeded in his mission of locating the missing members, but he had not failed either. Word of King had reached his ears, that the young man had resettled with his family and its newest, youngest members — but that was it. After the storm, many had simply…vanished. Komodo could not find it within himself to blame them. He knew they were capable beings, fully able to take care of themselves and make the decision which would lead to their survival. With the understanding that all was fine, the medicine man took him time traversing the lands before making headway back to the island. His soul had hungered for the movement, so he indulged.

This was how he preferred it, really; the freedom to come and go. If was a pleasure that he had never been able to find within the confines or any particular rank or responsibility; his heart was an uncertain thing and even he could not predict its fleeting tendencies. 

Komodo initially strode across the beach and into the island’s heartland as freely as he would have a month ago, but he quickly resolved to backtrack and announce his presence at their doorstep. There were so many new members he did not know, and perhaps they did not know of him, and the man did not wish to disturb any careful balance that had been struck in his absence. It was the same argument that he had posed to Axolotl when they both sought leadership — where had he been during these times? Did the members even know him? Komodo was a man who practiced what he preached, and this was a prime example.

He did not call for anyone immediately, instead electing to sniff around the borders and grasp the current state of affairs in his pack. With the humidity that persisted even in the fall seasons, his scent was sure to carry and his presence would be known. No need to alarm the others with the shrillness of a call.