Wheeling Gull Isle not all treasure is silver and gold

11am, Sunny, 21°C

Marlow awoke the next morning to the familiar sound of sealions roaring, and seagulls cawing and circling above his head. Slowly he unfurled himself away from the large shrub he had sheltered beneath, and stretched out his paws into the sand as he released a long, tired yawn. Immediately his warm amber gaze drifted past the writhing crowd of sealions to the smudge in the sea to the east, an island he now knew belonged to @Hua and her pack. Excited to take up her off of a tour, the silver male wasted no time in approaching the dark expanse of water which swelled between his island and hers, snapping up an unfortunate seagull as he went.

Once his paws touched the water and the salty waves lapped at his chest, instinct quickly kicked in. Clinging the dead seagull between his jaws, he was forced to huff through his nostrils as he paddled. Luckily for him, the tide was on his side and the ocean current swept him further east, making his journey a little easier than it might have been had he been forced to swim against the waves.

As he approached the island, it was immediately obvious that it was much larger than the one he had just swam from. There was more vegetation too, with a dense coniferous forest situated towards in its centre, along with some steep rocks where numerous birds congregated. The shore itself appeared rocky, with sharp ledges and deep rock pools making it more difficult for Marlow to decide where to come to shore. He ended up just allowing the waves to guide him in, and clung onto the nearest rock when he was inneviatably swept up to it. Hauling himself out from the sea, he took a few precise leaps forwards to stabilise himself on a flatter area of rock beside a deep pool, before finally shaking out his pelt and dropping the soaking-wet dead seagull at his paws. 

He then sent up a howl for Huā, eager to be in her company once more despite his damp and bedraggled appearance.