Wheeling Gull Isle kasheho

For now all that Mojag could do was follow, slowly. His body quaked with every step. His once plush coat was matted by salt. Slowly he went, until the hills came in to view; this would be some time after his discovery upon the beach, but his sense of time was terribly skewed by his deteriorated physical state.

He would not say much as Bartholomew offered himself as support, and barely noticed when Heda left to do some hunting. Given some time to rest perhaps his usual liveliness would return - but for now, Mojag was a shadow of his former self, eager for sleep.