Wheeling Gull Isle Blood of my blood.

It came as a surprise to Mou, when a foreign scent came to his nose. It was just as much due to the strong saltspray of the ocean (which often covered up the more desirous smells around Yuelong) and his focus on his distant brother; but when he caught it his attention shifted.

The fact of the matter was, Yuelong could not stand. They did not have the bodies to keep control of the island, and this fact was what caused Mou to hold back on his own response to the stranger. He wanted very much to chase them off, but equally so to make a good impression and fold them in among the island wolves — even if they were set to leave the island soon.

In the end he would do neither. His body drew across the hillside until his paws met sand, his tall, angular body an odd sight against the gray-blue of the rolling tide. It was here that he noticed the pale shape of the stranger as well as the wet path behind them, pock-marks in the sand where their paws had tread - now filling with brine.

He boofed a greeting but held his position there, watching them.