Wheeling Gull Isle tripping on skies, sipping waterfalls

the pair had made it to the island safely, and fawn had more or less already made herself at home.  although she preferred the dense cover of forest, the sand between her toes was not unwelcome, nor were the wolves who had made their home here.

she could see the land bridge now, how the tide had receeded.  she turned her attention to the water at the edge and suddenly became thankful that komodo had not let them pass when the water was high — fawn had never gone swimming and was likely to have not ever made it to wheeling gull isle.

she watched the inkdark girl break from the pack and with tentative, stilting paws she broke into the water.  it was warm today, though the water would retain its slight chill, and from a watchful distance she did the same, padding into the water halfway up her legs.

looking around, she caught komodo's gaze.  it was certain now that he was not going to hurt her; later, she would have to thank him for this somehow.