Wheeling Gull Isle Blood of my blood.

The song of the sea, salt, water and oceans; it was enticing and alluring like a siren beckoning him to come. To swim against the hasty tide, to surf on the endless staggering waves and to roll in the sand -- making sand angels -- at the end of summer-like afternoon.

But as with much in life, there were no endless adventures filled with love and laughter, memories to be made and to slowly fade. Instead life as a loner was filled with pangs of hunger, scurrying around 'dead meat' in search of left-overs and walking across the waters in the hopes it would one day taste less salty.

Or, maybe ..just for once his fish skills would begin to improve.

The scent of the wind brought along other treasures that stirred his curiosity from within. In the distance the faint contours of another wolf across Wheeling Gull Isle began to appear. It could be dangerous, it could be fun, it could be both. Either way, Dragonfly was about to find out the whereabouts of this other wolf -- especially because the wind already betrayed each other of their presence.