Wheeling Gull Isle you’ll never be what is in your heart

She had drifted from the seaside at a leisurely pace at first, interested in the variegated clusters of trees that dotted the island. It surprised her that there was any forest life at all; the salt in the soil had purged most of the goodness away. Perhaps it was only the coast of the island that was affected. Nukilik rarely found anything living alongside the water, which cemented the idea in her head that the island's heart was where the life persisted; everywhere else was rotting, desiccating, mummifying, the closer it was to the water. How odd - she thinks - that water could take life as easily as give it.

Her focus once she had moved inland was to suss out clean water for the pack. She had brought this up to Ying before. If anyone was to survive here they could not drink from the sea - it needed to be fresh water, or they would not last. It did bode well for her that the forest was so dense; as she moved through it and across tangled ferns (frosted or buried in most places), Nukilik held out hope that somewhere there was a grotto, or some other hidden space, which would serve as an oasis.

So focused was the woman on this task, she did not realize there was another wolf in the vicinity.