Wheeling Gull Isle the up & up

The nights had gradually begun to carry a chill in the air and while the tall pines of the island remained ever-green, the broad-leafed trees had started to transition into their fall hues. The thought of the cold season didn’t trouble the thick-coated Gampr much, but he had never wintered in this area before and wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. In the company of the Man he had been truly nomadic, traveling from one part of the country to the other, staying sometimes for months and sometimes only for weeks before leaving again. Still, he knew the island was far enough north that they would see snowfall, and he had begun to consider that they should move further inland and establish a communal den of sorts for efficiency. It was something he wanted to speak to Coelacanth and Faeryn about the next time he saw them but in his roaming of territory this day he hadn’t encountered another soul.

The island was quiet. Even with the addition of the newcomers. There still felt like there was a disconnect between them all, a dissonance, that they were all still strangers and not a cohesive unit like a pack should be. And he wasn’t sure how to remedy that.

He ambled along a well-worn game trail that led towards the river, lost in his own thoughts. He catches Doe’s scent drifting on the afternoon breeze as he gets closer to the water source, and curiosity about the silent shewolf who his Seelie seemed familiar with draws him from his contemplations. He follows the game trail to the river then treks downstream towards the scent until the dusky colored female comes into view. The Armenian watches her silently for a moment, his gaze tracing the outline of her ribs and the points of her hip bones visible through her fur and notably, the absence of the jaw bone she had been carrying previously. Not wanting to startle her, he clears his throat to announce his presence, tilting his head to the side slightly, “Having any luck?”