Wheeling Gull Isle mashallah

جزیرہ

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the tide was low, so rehan wandered over the land bridge that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, rising above the waves. he gaped and looked around, fascinated at the beauty around him. it was the closest thing to walking beneath the surface, passing by shells and kelp, the occasional landed fish.

and the island before him was small and stout, but gorgeous all the same. there was no way he wasn't intruding on someone's home--who would balk at claiming this place? once his paws hit the beach, he took slow, ginger steps, sniffing around. . .and catching the strong scent of wolves nearby.

yes. . .yes, he was trespassing. the primal fear of retribution warred with his natural curiosity, with the latter winning out.

rehan let out a plaintive call, wondering who would answer it. truth be told, he was tired of wandering. he needed a place to rest his bones for a bit, and this isle was more than adequate, even if it wasn't meant to be a long stay. it was vastly different from everything he had known--

--but perhaps that was best.