Wheeling Gull Isle She's spending every weekend at my place

Upon catching his breath, Lucas shot the twisted stick a somewhat grumpy look, and that was when he caught sight of Titmouse lurking nearby. The pale wolf with faint orange markings brushed along his side wasn't someone the Guppy was familiar with. It was like he'd materialized out of the storm; one moment, Undersea's wolves were huddled beneath the great spruce tree sans Titmouse, and the next they were crowded into the labyrinth and Titmouse was there. His eyes lingered curiously on the scarred wolf for a few moments, then he rose and hailed him with a, hey! and a lightly waving tail.

It wasn't much further to the water's edge, but Lucas' philosophy was that everything was better with friends. Even dragging a dumbly designed stick to the nearby ocean could be made into a game if one tried hard enough. And he was bored enough with the task to be willing. You wanna help me carry this out to sea? he invited with a characteristic grin.