Wheeling Gull Isle and if you don't want me at my goodnight

One cannot describe with words the outburst brewing in the secrecy of her mind. She was stubborn and hard-headed, and hated to be taught new things. How poor of a hunter was she, that even a sickly drowned woman could outperform her? Ying wanted to fling herself at Nuga and tear into sickled flesh but forced herself to breathe, breathe, breathe.. instead.

Well, she continued to dig anyway, despite her known disinterest in fish. They lived on an island where only three things came in abundance: water, sand, and fish. How long could a wolf go, eating only fish?

Ying kept these thoughts inside, afraid that saying them out loud might affect Nuga's opinion. Truly, she was a kind girl, simply plagued by a poor temper. Her paws worked furiously against the slick sand, a low boof escaping her each time the water pushed it back into the ditch. This is hard, she complained, looking up at Nuga with expectant gaze, No other way for this? Ying liked things that she could win, but based on her guess, digging ditches was not one of them.