Wheeling Gull Isle Raining sand, rolling hills of thunder

Mal had kept things relatively low key since arriving, sticking around familiar faces just for the short term. Partially because he wanted to have someone else do the whole explaining why they were here thing -- he was done explaining it, pretty much, this was one case where a pack's local rumor mill was actually a good thing.

He still had the look of a man who had carried far too much on his shoulders, but at least he was physically less of a mess even if mentally he was probably a bit of a disaster. He did need the rest, and other things, but it would be a process and probably quite a while before he was back to himself as he was maybe a year ago. So, he wouldn't be showing his face at the borders quite yet, instead going for a casual walk through the center of the territory.

Honestly, he didn't know where he was going. It was just a dang walk.