Wheeling Gull Isle In the Gallows

She narrowed her eyes upon the old fart. She offered an uneasy stand back and looked him over as she slightly turned cheek, but kept her eyes locked upon the Bounty. She tried hard to recall him, but nothing yet seemed to summon her memory. She took in his scent; he smelled of many wolves and heaps of lands. Salt clung to his fur, red wood, birch, pine, cedar, the scum in his undercoat from an old swim in a lake seemed to hang off of him too. She studied him as he stepped back, but the way his jaw hung out baring the tips of his lower teeth stirred something within.

Uncle Blaqwynter...?

He was a distant uncle, not a real close one, as he was brothers with the fifth brother of Ypres' father. So therefore they could breed if need be. It was minimal recall, but she did recall a face that did that trademark look of his. She wagged her tail as it slowly grew into a rapid wagging.

Blaqwynter! Wow.. How'd you find me?

She was curious, and needed to know.