Wheeling Gull Isle come out to the coast

There were not many things that Sixgill outright disliked – but he could say this with absolute certainty; he hated whatever this was. The wind was sharp and loud and the way the waves crashed against the shore made him nervous. The promise of cold rain was on the horizon, and quite frankly rain in general wasn’t that great, let alone cold rain driven by howling winds.

He didn’t pace, but he shuffled uncertainly from one spot to another from time to time with his tail tucked against his hocks and his ears flat to the side like airplane wings – torn between lingering with his siblings or moving closer to his father who was awaiting Seelie’s return from the shoreline to their little temporary shelter beneath the great spruce. And it is only once his mother joins them that he begins to settle, laying down among his littermates with a soft, concerned huff.