Wheeling Gull Isle the colours seem bright in the sky

Driftwood hadn't found a seashell that could quite measure up the the large scalloped blue he had cracked in twain, but he thought that today's treasure might at least come close. He carried it carefully in his jaws as he trotted across the shoreline, keeping a weather eye out for crabs. Instead of vengeful crustaceans, however, his eye spotted a small set of tracks in the sand that caused his ears to prick up in interest and his nose to come eagerly alive. This was a rockier stretch of the island's edge, and Driftwood had to stay alert to catch the more intermittent pawprints than he would have elsewhere, slowing him down and then eventually causing him to rely more on his nose than his eyes as he followed the tracks as they zigzagged and then converged with another set. Driftwood felt a bit of growing alarm, and tried to pick up the pace as his ears placed themselves on full sentry-duty alert. One of the trails looked and smelled like some rodent or other, but the one that had joined it looked like a wolf's paw...a very, very small set of wolf's paws. He glanced uncertainly about, but saw nor smelled neither hide nor hair of any larger guardian about. He was pretty sure even the bigger of the pups he had seen at the Mitexi (now that the technical very-biggest-pups were officially adults instead) were still too little to be out and about very far on their own. Who knew what sort of trouble they could get into?

His heart pounded as he spotted a small speckling of blood upon the ground, but his increasingly frantic nose reassured him that that, at least, did not belong to any canine. He whipped his head around as a small blur of motion caught his eye, but he turned away in disgust as he realized it was only some bird, enjoying the rising thermals off the sun-warmed rocks as it inscribed circles in the clouds. Driftwood was not interested in birds; he had much more important quarry in mind, and kept his focus on tracking the young girl whose scenttrail drew him onward even as the pawprints grew increasingly sporadic among the tumbled stones. Driftwood noticed with alarm that a few of those stones had awfully sharp edges, though; not only did the thought that the pup might hurt herself upon them scare him, he also considered with concern and growing alarm that Seelie and Stockholm would surely never forgive him if he let that happen under his gaze. His golden eyes widened as he crested a larger boulder and they at last rested upon the small, hopping form of a fuzzy little puppy, her motions distinguishing her somewhat-camouflaged coat against the wider expanses of tan stones.

His heart skipped a beat at her halting pace, at first: had she managed to hurt herself? She was moving pretty funny... It was with considerable relief that looking closer, he watched her hop along piecemeal behind the much smaller and slower vole, licking its back fur experimentally and dogging its tiny hurt strides. That explained it, then. Driftwood's dawning smile at the scene suddenly vanished, however, as just as he started to relax and lope up to check on the youngster nice and loose and easy, another blur of motion high above caught his eye. Driftwood dropped his now-forgotten precious shell with a yelp of warning as the eagle stooped down hard and fast toward the funny little pair. Driftwood's own paws were in motion before anyone could blink, and thankfully he was much closer to the little girl than was the eagle, but great `Ohiki was that bird quick...! Already in his mind's eye he could see the horror and carnage of his possible failure— Oh no, oh no oh no oh no— please don't let it become true— Forget the leaders; Driftwood wasn't sure if he could ever forgive himself if such a small and helpless pup was snatched up before him.