Wheeling Gull Isle And I don't even care about what people say

Moorhen had been swimming, trying to rid her legs of the powerful urge to range far and wide. She'd done quite a lot of travelling in the past week or so, and yet, her restless energy still was not spent. Even the formation of her formidable wood pile hadn't winded her for very long.

In the water, she looked like nothing so much as a wave-tossed log, but two ruddy eyes tracked the movements of the burly boy as he dug about on the beach. Moorhen was already suspicious of the boy, and in high dudgeon over his decision to waste all the driftwood he came across - but it seemed he was just looking for scraps to take to the caches, and Moorhen could find no fault in that.

The Cairn woman made her way back to the beach, emerging from the waves with her pelt clinging to her body, the pale bands along her ribcage making her look almost skeletal as she stalked toward the boy, intent on making a formal introduction. When she was near enough to have a hope at commanding his attention, she said, Hello. I im Moorhen. Akhlut. Destroyer of worlds. Protector. With that, her bloodred gaze turned expectant and a titch impatient - the boy was already in her bad books for having "threatened" her precious woodpile.