Wheeling Gull Isle the hour of death

The events leading him here were few and far between, but he had not yet started to process them. As he sat in wait for discovery, things began to creep through his thin veil of composure. He was hunkered there upon the sand with boulders and discarded trees as cover, very unlike his first arrival to the island — but still a piece of detritus, a nagging piece of meat stuck between the teeth of the world. While he sat there, his mind began to play back the last time he'd seen Maegi — her panic, her heart breaking as she cast him away. It was for the greater good. It was to keep him safe, to keep them all safe. Redhawk would never stop until he was dead but — but his thoughts weren't about his own safety right now. He imagined Maegi's face. The contours of her cheek bones, the lively color of her eyes, the grin cleaved through her skin...

Titmouse gasped and a sob came out, but there wasn't time for him to feel the full piteous effect of the moment because there was a familiar face creeping closer. For now, he'd stash away his emotions and do his best to -- well, he wasn't sure. Explain why he was there, for one. But as soon as he looked at Seelie he felt his heart fill with a mess of new emotions, and let out another gasp for air like he was coming up from a deep dive in the middle of the sea.

He missed the way she said his name; it wasn't him anymore, but semantics weren't the problem. As she came closer he rose up and moved to intercept her, and when he was close enough - whether she wanted it or not - he buried his face against her salt-lined scruff and hugged her tightly in the body-twisting manner that wolves did to long lost family. See, he sighed in to her fur, See, I... I nee' stay, can — can stay? He pulled back from his embrace and blinked at her with that one good eye of his, and it glimmered in the winter light, layered with thick tears.