Wheeling Gull Isle picks himself up and keeps climbing for the prize again

@Driftwood — whenever you wanna!

It had been almost a full month since his arrival on their shores and the wolves of Undersea had expertly put the boy back together.

Although he lacked many things (a memory for one, a voice,) he was at a point now where he could be escorted from his haven and left to enjoy the summer sunlight, at first for short periods but gradually for lengthier ones. His ribs were still quite tender, and he needed a guide when walking anywhere, so he was still frequently visited by his caretakers — others, too, had taken notice of him since the mitexi, and from time to time Mou caught glances of these strangers roaming through the grass on their errands or simply watching him.

He found that the world outside of his hideaway was much more open than he anticipated. The air had an odd smell that took some getting used to, but within a few days Mou had adjusted to it. His adventures out of the hollow were gradually made longer and longer each day in both time and distance, and at this point he was on a grassy burm that overlooked one of the endless beaches.

Mou did not know he was on an island; it mattered little except for the fact he would go no further, even with prompting from his caretakers — it was enough to smell the sea every day, to watch it beat ceaselessly along the tiny coast, but he was reluctant to go anywhere near it.