Wheeling Gull Isle hike up your skirt a little more

It wasn’t until the girl crawled closer that he realized how scrawny she was. Closer and closer she came, and Komodo felt his jaw tighten and molars grit together. At first, he was struck with the discomforting idea that there had been some famine upon the island — that he had left his wolves to starve — but indeed her scent was new, and surely her woes happened before her coming to Undersea. Coelacanth, the little healer, wouldn’t have let a wolf under her jurisdiction deteriorate to this state… would she?

The earthstalker wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the woman’s display, but there was an emotion that ignited in his gut and licked hotly at the pit of his throat. Empathy. Komodo didn’t know what had happened, but he didn’t have to know;  hell, he had been there himself, and instead of knowing he simply wanted to heal her every hurt. The woman seemed so small, so fragile and frail — in need of the gods’ protection.

He, and undersea… but mostly he had the tools to make her whole once more. 

The ghost uttered single sounds, soft and breathy, but could not form words. Golden ears craned forward, hoping to capture any utterance but failing.  Komodo’s jaw loosened and he allowed his large frame to sit upon the sodden earth, hoping that he may not appear as intimidating as others claimed. Perhaps it was unnecessary, she was the one to approach him, after all.

Komodo kept his mien bright, alert and engaged, but said nothing.