Wheeling Gull Isle All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.

Strand stuck her tongue out at Padma in return and laughed, limping back to shore herself. Padma was concerned about her shoulder. Strand shrugged. “Still a pain in the ass—or, well, shoulder. Heh. But I’m getting better.” She grinned. “I think the scar will look cool whenever it heals over. Other wolves will know not to fuck with me, right?” Yeah. Strand was a total badass. At least in her own head. Probably not to anyone else, but she didn’t know that. Not yet, anyways. She’d probably learn that at some point and it would be a helluva wake up call.