Wheeling Gull Isle Don't be shy.

Later, when he was warm and dry and maybe even full of fresh meat somewhere in the future, he would look back on this moment and think that his gods were looking out for him. There were cautionary tales about traveling too far from one's tribe; he should have known better! The sea wasn't a new concept to him, but Vekesh and his people were not known to be comfortable around the salt water. If the sea was this tempermental then Vekesh would keep that in mind—he'd likely try to avoid contact from now on.

That said, he was overjoyed when the other coything took pity on him. Pity wasn't always a bad thing. Dank-ya! Dank-ya much, m-my fren, he couldn't quite agree to the terms (heck, he couldn't even say thanks at this point) because his gator-jaw began to clatter and snap from the cold. His teeth hurt, and he was so incredibly cold—so he skittered closer to the stranger, figuring that they had offered shelter and one of the caveats involved being watched at all times, but that didn't have to be right here did it?

He gave an imploring look to the girl as he slunk along, and then... Sort of did a double-take when he caught sight of something swinging in line with their underbelly, of which Vekesh had a pretty good view. Ah, ah, I... I do dank-ya, sirs, he just wouldn't mention his blunder. At least his embarrassment was helping him to warm up. To clear the awkwardness he felt from the air (even though it was likely one-sided) Vekesh tried to instigate more conversation.

What be dis place? Ed smell strong, like varg! Within his accented words lay a hidden question he didn't feel inclined to outline just yet; it was curious to the tribal boy that someone like this stranger, who was very obviously not a varg, would choose to live with them.