Wheeling Gull Isle come out to the coast

The boy had been fighting against the coursing winds as best he could and struggled against it, using the trees to brace himself wherever necessary, but still too agile in build and long in body to be effective. More than once he felt the sweeping danger of a loose branch whip overhead, ducking just in time or turning, weaving between through the tumult. He was nowhere near the rest of the pack; they took shelter beneath a great old tree, and yet here was Titmouse, pressed against the rocky shore along one part of the isle and trying to fight the weather. He found a gap in the earth - a small crevice, big enough for himself if he curled up enough - and hurried to press himself in to it.