Wheeling Gull Isle left his mark

A lion. Aiolos would have been happy to know of Mou's thoughts of him. It would have reminded him of Ruo and how she said he was like Lion, Leo, the constellation of stars burning bright.

The sight of the collared, one-eyed wolf was a pleasant one. He was a quiet wolf and they could stride the outskirts of the territory, watching for visitors on the sandbar and bringing up prey inland from the tide pools without trying to force small talk. A time before Aiolos would have only shown dominance and agression to Mou as he fought to be seen amongst the women in his lowly state of man. Now, things had become far different for the once Greek slave.

Mou's raspy chuff and maw lick responded a proud yet playful pawing at the air and stomp of his foot then into the sands. Mou's deep orange eye is fixed upon him, attentive, watching and waiting. Aiolos ginger ears perk high, questioning. What's on your mind? He wonders of his guardian. Perhaps he had news of the pups progress, maybe a hunting opportunity was just around the corner for some larger game. Maybe another visitor from the mainland? He listens and waits.