Wheeling Gull Isle healing

@Padma - forward-dated to the 11th of April

She had been resting on the island for a few days, the salt spray of the ocean and the call of the gulls an ever present fixture in her life. Her new life. The only one she could remember. Being put on bedrest gave her plenty of time to lay around and strain her memory for slivers of a past life, but nothing ever came to her. She’d give up for a while and then return to it again after some time had gone by, but even after giving her brain a rest, it made no difference. She remembered nothing. Only flashes of a storm, being dragged under the waves, feeling so close to death, and then… waking up here.

She had begun to notice the faint scents of other wolves here and there, but none that were fresh besides her own and the fading scent of Brisbane, the man who had saved her and helped with her injuries. At some point, there must have been others living on the island, but they were long gone now. That was good. That was very good. Because this island was hers now. If any long-lost islanders came back to claim this place, they’d have to go through her. To hell with her shoulder. She’d fight regardless—and probably die—but it was worth it. This island was her home, and she was its master, and no one would take it from her or lord over her.

She’d found a pool of fresh water, churned from below by and underground river. This was where the forest came from. She stuck close by, partly because she couldn’t move much and partly because this was probably the only source of freshwater on the island. For now, she would remain here, in the shade of the conifer forest, healing from her wounds and listening to the birdsong and the sound of the waves.