Wheeling Gull Isle razor sharp and ready to cut

He didn't know why he had bothered to cross the sandbar in the first place. Perhaps the fact that the last time he was here, Coelacanth had been there seemingly helping run a pack and he had been presented with the option that he really never had to go back to Olive. Maybe it was simply to get away from the mainland where almost every inch of the teekons had some sort of memory to it. Either way he had crossed and been on the island for about a day now.

The first thing that struck him right off the bat was that everyone seemed to be gone. There was no fresh scents or any of the familiar scents anywhere that he had searched. This caused a sliver of concern to wedge itself into his mind for Coelacanth. After mulling over said concern he decided to hope that she was alive and somewhere back in the mainland. 


Growing tired of wandering this place he made his way back to the beach, coming out of the trees and immediately staring at the back of a pelt that should have been familiar and was in a way, but in that moment he couldn't place the name. Deciding to be civil he gave a low chuff before moving out of the trees completely and slightly down the shore line to sit, where he continued to eye the male.