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

Though in reality the stallion didn't move far, unwilling to leave his mares behind, Driftwood could practically see his life flash before his eyes as somewhere deep within him a little voice told him that this was surely how it all ended, how he had always one some level known it had to end. ...It didn't really make a whole lot of sense, even to his fear-addled brain, but then again rationality really wasn't Driftwood's strongest suit at the moment anyhow.

It took a moment for him to remember how his legs worked, again, for him to unknot himself enough to respond to the prodding of Maegi's voice and the suddenly comforting weight of her against his side. He leaned gratefully into her as she carefully and patiently guided his stuttering steps along, and was grateful too that he could focus simply on the placement of first one foot and then another and not have to worry about the direction they were headed (like right into a big scary horse all unknowingly, which Driftwood was dead certain where he would end up if he had had to nagivate this all on his own). The tinier Maegi was not really much of a physical crutch, but her small warmth and physical nearness radiated reassuringly into his side with every step he took away, enabling those steps to become less and less halting as he slowly relaxed.

Y-yeah, he was finally able to reply, when they had at last retreated past the point the horses were out of sight. Th-th-thanks. His voice might still be shaky and unsure, but there was nothing uncertain about the wide smile of gratitude he flashed in her direction, save perhaps for the small tinge of embarrassment to it. Thankfully, she changed the subject, though it took Driftwood's brain a moment to switch gears and follow her.

Oh, I've been exploring the island, he shared with quickly-blooming enthusiasm and more-slowly growing confidence. His eyes sparkled and came alive as he thought about all the wonderful and gorgeous sights he had seen, trekking here and there whether or not other wolfsteps had traveled thence before him. I hunt a little sometimes, and check the caches when Stockholm or Komodo ask, and sometimes I'll collect seashells for Seelie in her den. His tail loosed up and flagged a little higher as it started to gently fan the air. So many wonderful things to do and see— and none of them involving murderous ponies in the least, thank goodness. I like exploring the shoreline, and seeing what the ocean has washed up, and exploring all across the island like up around the Skybowl or over on the rocks with the sea lions by the lagoon or— Whoops. He might have been mindlessly babbling just a little more than usual in relief, too.