Wheeling Gull Isle It's a Marshmallow World

Driftwood grinned up at the squabbling birds as their twittering exchange grew more heated. He remained blissfully oblivious to the presence of any other living beings until a more substantial voice sounded from behind him. Drift started slightly, and turned to find a female wolf regarding him with quite a bit less enthusiasm than he himself still held. Driftwood's grin widened again at the sight and his tail wagged high nonetheless. His mind blithely skipped over her tone and focused instead on the words she'd offered.

Oh, uh, hey there! Grin grin, wag wag. There was only a little bit of hesitance in his stance, and a little uncertainty in his eyes; his main demeanor was still quite optimistically happy and guileless. He bravely moved a step forward, flicking a small feathering of snow vaguely in the direction of the other wolf as he moved, though it was unlikely to touch her unless she threw herself forward striving to grab it—which Driftwood was all in favor of, really; he and Seelie hadn't gotten to play at all, really, but perhaps he'd have better luck here and now with this stranger. I'm called Driftwood! Who're you?

Her scent wasn't entirely unfamiliar even if her face was; she'd obviously been here before, and around the island much longer than he, so naturally Driftwood assumed that having a little more fun engaging with him was more likely her aim than simply having another look around at the scenery. Still, he tacked on another remark: It's quite pretty here, isn't it? He himself was distracted enough by said pretty scenery to pay overmuch attention to her own body language, though he held himself ready to play nonetheless should she make a sudden big leap to get to him. His eyes rested on a fluttering tiny leaf here, a mote of sun there before wending their bright way back to the face of the other.