Wheeling Gull Isle and brought to an end their earthly days

The fear of the wolf was palpable. He could sense it just as strongly as he could see it in the way he carried himself across the slick stones, through the wet sand. It was a sort of fear that the coywolf did not quite understand, but there were many things in the world he discovered he did not entirely understand. Perhaps they were never meant to be understood.

The forestry welcomed them to work beneath its sprawling boughs and as the sand gave way to soft earth, his pace picked up. The cavern he had squared away for himself was not far off, but he didn't intend to share its location with anyone just yet. Instead he waited until they were inland some distance before letting his pace slow, depositing the bundle he had prepared to the side.

His gaze rounded on the wolf, shrewdly taking him in.

Another one-eyed patron—did they collect them now, too?

"You follow me. Why?" If the words sounded harsh, it was meant to be. Not of the conscious sort; there were far few things that he did on a level that had full awareness. Somewhere it was deigned that the best way to get answers was to be direct, and thus was the only direction he took.