Wheeling Gull Isle salt sting

The angakkuq was found easily, as he was making headway marking the shores of the isle. The lesson that Axolotl — to mark the treeline, rather than the sands — had not been lost on him, so that’s what exactly what he was doing. It was very like Komodo to glean learnings and customs from the wolves he met, and sometimes re-met, and incorporate them into his own life. He was an amalgam of every wolf he had ever met. It strangely also gave him a sense of unique-ness, though none of it was truly his own. 

The voiceless one needn’t have a voice to communicate her distress. He followed, his moments strong and purposeful, without many questions or much prompting. The roan brute was led to two forms upon the sands; one was distinctly Seelie, and one was distinctly disheveled by the ocean’s heavy hand. The sea could be a cruel mistress. Well, the boy didn’t appear to be in dire danger, but Coelacanth shielded him as if he was. Komodo wished to walk right up to them and assess the situation, but knew he couldn’t. Things between him and his Aralez were much too fragile. Instead the medicine man inquired steadily “An’ who’s this?” and lowered his head to give the flotsam a cursory once-over from afar.