Wheeling Gull Isle neon gravestones try to call for my bones

“You’ll always be welcome here, Faeryn,” Stockholm affirms quietly, his golden eyes somber, scarred muzzle wearing a sad smile. “Go, find what you need to find. We’ll be here for you if you ever need us.” For a moment he is silent; his expression is unreadable save for a patient sort of compassion. “We’ll miss you,” he adds, for Seelie as much as himself. “We built this pack together.” The four of them — Komodo, Faeryn, Stockholm, and Seelie — have all taken the helm at one point or another; and although it’s been awhile since Faeryn has gone by the title of Akhlut, and longer still since the seawolves called her Alpha, he can’t help but feel that the pack’s foundation will be shaken by her departure.