Wheeling Gull Isle the lake is frozen over; trees are white with snow

The terrible weather that was hitting the Wilds did not forget about the island; the wind blustered without much to stop it, and Mou did not like it at all. There was snow only on the highest tree tops near the center of the island, where the land was raised. He kept to the shadows as if he were back in Blackfeather Woods or the Hollow; old habits swiftly found new homes here. From his hiding place he could watch the terrain without being bothered by anyone.

He saw the distant shape of someone pale on beach and after watching them for a few minutes, recognized the limping gait. He did not go out to meet her, though. Sometimes it was best to give one-another space. They were both acclimatizing back to a coastal lifestyle quite well, although the chilly water and worse, the frigid wind, did not coax Mou in to wandering quite as much. He was content to watch.