Wheeling Gull Isle You Dream About Going Up There, But That is a Big Mistake

His eyes were wide as the full moon, and his brow was carved deep with evidence of his fear and worry as his gaze flickered to the face of the female who bellied up beside him in the grass. A storm of emotions swirled around the motionless Driftwood: he was somewhat incredulous that this smaller, lighter-furred wolf could be so blasé about the huge flashing hooves of the creatures before them. Driftwood couldn't put it into words but somehow he knew right down to his bones that it was neither so simple nor so safe as the young lady was trying to claim. He didn't know if it was deliberate misinformation she was trying to spread, or if she was perhaps just naïve, but either way Drift couldn't find it in him to believe her. ...He also couldn't remember if he had met this packmate or not, although her scent didn't seem entirely unfamiliar at least... his mind was consumed by much bigger concerns at the moment than social niceties like trying to remember names or offering up polite greetings. His eyes were drawn inexorably back to the objects of his fear, and he nearly had a heart attack as he saw one of them, a big reddish one with a dandelion-colored mane, lift its head to look in their direction for a moment.

Driftwood's dark claws unconsciously dug frightened furrows deep into the earth as he stared at the hooved creatures. He couldn't will his tongue to obey him all that well, but he did at least manage a feeble whine in response to her words. His breathing came harsh and hard, and terror still held him as firmly in its talons as tight and close as a hungry owl clutching a mouse. Driftwood swallowed hard, and leaned a few fractions of an inch involuntarily closer to Maegi even as his claws tried to sink his bones further into the ground, where his elbows and belly had already made a fairly sizeable rut under the flattened meadowgrass given how desperately he was sinking downward into it. He may have thought her words folly but he clung to what reassurance he could leech from her smaller but far more nonchalant presence. He just hoped she wasn't about to anger the hooved ones, or anything, with her overconfidence and lack of groveling fear. He managed to give his head a minute but violent shake side-to-side. He wasn't about to try hurting the horses; that was for sure. He just seriously had to doubt that that alone would keep him safe...

It was right about then that the stocky, dark dun stallion stuck his long nose up into the air and snorted, as the breeze shifted slightly and brought another suspicious hint of the presence of predators.