Wheeling Gull Isle they are for each other

He was one among four, although Phox could scarcely be called one of the island pack. He hunted for them what he could, and he searched for signs of Niamh. If she came back, it would be here. Phox was certain of it. He did not think she would return to the caldera; but maybe she knew this was a safe place for her and she would come back. Perhaps the children—they would be getting older now. Old enough to travel, and perhaps she was waiting for them to be able to do so.

He was reminded of this when he saw Maegi's children frolicking about. Four of them, perhaps the same age his own were right now. His heart sank, wishing that he could share those moments with his own children, wherever they were. Did they have a father? What had Niamh been thinking, pulling them away from such a good support system? These four children, despite the dwindling pack numbers, were doing well.

Along with Maegi and the children were the other two wolves who had greeted him at the border. Aiolos and the one who had not given his name. Or Phox had already forgotten it.

Phox's ribs showed clearly and his eyes were dull when he approached, but he was there. Ready to do whatever they asked of him.