Wheeling Gull Isle sprucing up the place

Moorhen didn't speak tree, but her instincts were speaking loud enough that it didn't matter much. She wasn't brooding, not yet, but she was being driven to conquer and a messy island just wouldn't do for her suddenly very delicate sensibilities. The Cairn swept a bloodred glare over the ruined landscape and made a grab for the first piece of debris she could find - a long, scraggly bough of spruce.

Irritably, the shewolf began dragging it to a relatively flat, unused area of the island. It wouldn't get rid of the branches, but Moorhen already had an idea of what she wanted. Sure enough, several hours later, there was a large pile - larger indeed than Moorhen herself! - of driftwood and broken branches. Her jaws ached from the effort, but she was quite pleased with the results. And it sure was nice, as far as large piles of wood can be considered as such.

That taken care of, the banded woman began making her rounds, the urge to do something resting uncomfortably in her gut now that her project was finished. She busied herself with a few bits and bobs, and set aside a nice jawbone for later perusal - but, by and large, found herself wandering most idly.

Feeling vaguely unsettled and discontent, Moorhen snatched a random dead fish from the ground and set off in search of @Coelacanth.