Wheeling Gull Isle resist

The further she roved up the beach, the more her nares cleared. There was a pack here; their scents grew stronger further inland, and Sif looked over her shoulder to see that she'd come only a few dozen yards from the sparkling shore. Her legs were already tiring.

When she turned to continue onward, another wolf had appeared. One that struck an odd, long-forgotten chord within the dark bay girl. "Shadow," she said to herself, voice barely above a whisper. And indeed, the figure up ahead was completely pitch, with only the blue of her eyes breaking the monotony of her pelt. A tiny shiver ripped down Sif's spine, and she blinked once - hard - before realizing just who she was looking at.

"Shadow!" she said again, releasing a breathy whine. Her ears flew back against her skull, and she stumbled two steps forward, feeling large and ungainly before her dark protector. When had she grown so tall? The last time she'd seen the Shadow, the wolfdog had towered over her. "It me," she pleaded. "I eim your Moorhen."