Wheeling Gull Isle east is up

As his eye adjusted to the darkness he could make out the familiar contours of the room, but it just so happened that the intruder (who he still did not realize was real) had crossed over in time with his eyeless side and so she was well hidden, at least until her little voice sprang forth from the dark. Mou's head did not move but his big ears twisted first, and then he adjusted both his straining neck and his shoulders so that he could better look upon the stranger without too much effort. He realized in moments that it was only a cub. The voice should have given so much away but he was still a bit dazed from his hours spent sunbathing and either way, it came as a surprise.

Any other wolf might have greeted the youngster or offered them a game, a story, something to appease and to teach; but as Mou opened his mouth to repeat the greeting he remembered his inability, and his mouth shut again with a click of teeth. He huffed a deep sigh that felt as if it went straight down to his twisting gut, and then let out an audible snort. He wondered if Reed would return and take this child with her — it occurred to him that he was bothered more-so by his failing to respond than the creature's presence, but either way he was made irritable.

He was left to watch the child for a moment and he saw, in that brief flicker of indecision, that the two of them shared a similar thought. They both wished to be rescued by Reed, and that set Mou off again. He was no child. He may have been gravely injured once, but he could sweep this child to the entrance if he so wished — this was his space, after all.

But he was merely being surly and petulant, and when he tried to stand and take a step towards the bundle of fluff, he felt his hip give way and a sharp pain which buckled his legs and made him gasp in the dark. He sank to his belly again, having gotten no closer to the cub, and turned his attention away sheepishly.