Wheeling Gull Isle "one day at a time," is what they tell us

The pale girl stayed close to the injured man, but not too close. She lingered in the shadows just nearby, watching people more competent than her in the healing arts care for him. But she was intrigued by him, and so she dare not leave his side, not just yet. She wanted to see whether he pulled through; she had a vested interest, and had since he'd washed up on shore.

The arrival of Rokig, first, and then Reed sparked her attention, and Maegi finally padded through the brush and into the shelter, thin frame making it easy for her to slip in and out of places without much fuss. She gave a shy smile to the healthy pair, then looked at the white wolf, a keening whine in her throat as she realized the present danger. He was shuddering, body jerking, drooling foam.

"He needs help!" Maegi cried, looking wildly over at Reed. She jabbed her muzzle at the herbs the ruddy girl had brought, glancing up at her. "Will one of these help. . .whatever is going on right now?" Her voice was full of fear. She'd already had one wolf die in front of her on this island--she wasn't going to have that happen again.