Wheeling Gull Isle he hapalua ia o ka honua,

His signs of submission remained- his tongue darting from his lips, a paw raised as an offering and his tail lowered, whipping back and forth in between his legs. He was both excited and understanding of his place as a stranger at their doorstep. But what to do with him, exactly? Aiolos knew the man to be obviously endured. He needed rest and recovery though without being able to speak to the other wolf, he would not be able to ask if he planned on staying. Perhaps the wolf would rummage through their caches, sleep in their beds and then be gone before anyone had any say in it. Perhaps too he might have realized he had washed up here because the Goddesses made it so that this were to be his new home.

Aiolos takes a step back from the other wolf then, the burning amber of his gaze moving with the summer green of his own. Yuelong. He knows the other could not understand it, but there was no way of getting around it when it came to the name of his home. A single paw lifts then, moving outward at the bend and then pressing to his own chest. This was home. 

Aiolos then turns back to the pale stranger and in doing so with every intent to keep his eye on him, he takes a few steps forward towards the more central parts of the island. He woofs and his muzzle juts into the direction of the small peak at its center. The red wolf then walks closer back toward shore then and past Holokai, jutting his nose then to the sandbar. The sandbar which connected the island to the mainland and off of Yuelong territory. Then alas, his attention placed back to the wolfdog and he shrugs- which would he choose? To stay or to leave?