Wheeling Gull Isle and brought to an end their earthly days

Stones skittered out of from under his feet as he cut through a narrow band of sea water. Eventually the tide pools would be swallowed whole here and he knew if he wanted to make a return trip he would have to take the lengthy path around. It mattered not in the present—he was certain that he had enough to sate the need for today. Tomorrow, perhaps if the weather proved better, he could always gather more.

And when the appearance of another at his hocks turned up, he was almost certain there too that it would have to be tomorrow. The hurried steps of the other almost urged him to power along quickly, but he was not feeling the sort to be rushed. A glare crossed his features as he looked ahead, knowing soon he would be out of the poor cover the cavern mouth offered and back to the full brunt of the whipping elements.

When he reached that point, the sand offered him the breadth he needed to put distance between himself and the wolf. He hadn't so much as looked back beyond a scant, cursory glance and such remained true; with the plants clutched between his jaws, he had little room to speak and much to do. His steps carried him towards the timberline once more, ever headed onward.

Whether or not he had a follower still, he'd deal with later.