Wheeling Gull Isle amongst the whales and the waves

He was not alone for long. The beaches had always been a communal place for him, having been the very location of Undersea’s conception and his introduction to the wolves who would play such a significant role in his life — he supposed it was the same for his fellows upon the island, as the beach was one of the more interesting and ever-shifting places upon their tiny home; but moreso for him, Komodo thought. So when there wall an indignant greeting and a bristled girl upon him, the earthstalker was more interested than he was offended. He maintained his position and stance, perhaps allowing his ears to lift a higher and his tail to arch taller ever so slightly, with several different implied questions held within his heavy gaze, such as who are you and really?. They didn’t know each other, but Komodo assumed that if she so carefully guarded the island, then she was meant to be here. 

The brute espied a hovering Coelacanth, holding herself around the scene’s peripheries. Further emboldened by this, Komodo trod forward and met the foreign girl in her approach. "Komodo,” he bade her kindly, deeply. “an’ yew?”