Wheeling Gull Isle Blood of my blood.

They were too few, the tactician knew that even before @Phox made his appearance. Now they had one more adult among them who could become a useful member of their collective - but even so, it was not enough.

Had they left Niamh to die, her brood along with her, maybe their fortunes would have been different. The dread gods of the blackwood left their lingering curse; would the lives of the children been enough to satiate those invisible wills?

It was too late now.

Now, Mou paced the island beyond where the claim limits sat. Whatever served as their claim was waning too thin, and his effort to hunt for his family took up all his time. There was none left for maintenance; that job belonged now to Aiolos alone.

With a huff Mou stalked among the expanding tide pools at the rocky shore line, watching the dark shape of his brother move in the distance. His thoughts were many-layered, and he thought soon they might drown him.