Wheeling Gull Isle its laugh broke into a thousand pieces

The island served as his respite for the moment.

The stone — his stone, he reminded himself — was well hidden, far from the prying noses of wolf or coyote or whatever creature the wraith was. He doubted it would be interesting to the wildlife that lived here on the Isle, so he was confident in its current resting place.

But if he was going to rest here for a while, he would need to find food. Sea living was not something that he was used to at all and he quickly found himself bleeding from the sharp claws of the strange creatures that lived on the shore. He was fed, but soreness dominated his body. He yawned, traipsing towards the freshwater pond towards the center of the Isle to wash the salt and blood from his body.