Wheeling Gull Isle and what is it you say to them?

’I used to live here.’

Strand bristled at these words, standing taller with her chin jutted out. “Well, I live here now,” she snapped, trying to assert some kind of dominance like the stupid teenager she was. It wasn’t as if she had any real claim to the island. She didn’t have the numbers for that. Not yet, anyways…

’Undersea seems to be no more.’

“Undersea?” she repeated, feeling even more uneasy. “What’s that? Your pack?” She had to assume that’s what he meant because, well, what else could he be talking about? She looked around as if she expected to see wolves pop up out of the sand and from beneath the waves to try and steal the island from her. “They’re gone now, whoever they were. It’s not my problem that they left and if they come back, they’ll take this island over my dead body.”

Now that she had gotten that out of the way, she stepped towards him. He wanted to know if she fished. “Of course I do!” she said, puffing out her chest. In truth, she was terrible at fishing and hadn’t had much chance to practice what with her wounded shoulder. But… well, there was no time like the present! Besides, she couldn’t let this male think her a fool. She’d have to get lucky and catch a fish quickly and pretend that she’d known what she was doing the whole time. This would be… interesting.