Wheeling Gull Isle felt your heart

Ironically, the spotted girl was looking for the red boy around the place she'd met him last. He was nice, to give her that rock, after all (she still kept it, hidden in the beginning of a little packrat stash she'd decided to make underneath a cubby hole of a tree on the west side of the island.) So, she had decided to return the favor. 

A pink shell held beneath her jaws, tiny and fragile and she was trying her best not to break it. But it was pretty, and maybe he'd like it. 

But he was not at the rock, as she'd hoped. Fortunately, he was easy to spot when she got up high enough - a splash of red out near the tide pools. Haoming wagged her tail and trotted out to him, ears angling toward the pools of water. She sat the tiny shell on top of her forepaw. 

"W-wha-what you duh-doing?" she asked, deciding on common tongue for now. It seemed to be the one most of the wolves knew, after all.