Wheeling Gull Isle on the line between gaia and poseidon

For a few seconds, she thinks the woman is asking her to live here. Maybe. Or maybe she’s just confirming what she thought? She doesn’t know but it doesn’t faze her or slow her down. The little wolf is pretty and small like her but she has a lot more fur than she does.
 
“Currituck,” she says when the woman asks, a smile brightening her features. Her tail waves back and forth that swings her hips to and fro. “I like Seelie,” she says, asks? She isn’t sure. The woman offered it as a name and she doesn’t want to embarrass herself with the first, hard sounds. She licks her lips and glances to the waters. “There is a storm coming?” she deduces, a little delay, as her pointed ears fall back.