Wheeling Gull Isle vanyan sòlda

Caracal wondered if Heda felt the disturbance in the island’s energy as he tucked a serendipitous catch—a scrawny weasel—into a sandpit among the trees below The Greenhills. As he tamped down the coarse grains, he frowned and looked out to the dark sea, pondering what he knew of their new arrivals and why they had come here, which wasn’t much.

But if some of Sapphique’s wolves were here, albeit temporarily, then perhaps his sister or grandmother were among them. He set out to search for Meerkat in particular, never mind the hour, his fleet red paws carrying him toward the dormant lavender field Heda liked so much.

Caracal stopped short at the sight of a silhouette moving through the fallow flowers. He squinted, snout raising into the air. Now his eyes widened as he caught the scent. Could it really be Mireille?

Minding what Erzulie had told him of the redhead, Caracal hesitated. If she already hated men and she was here on this island due to great duress, then perhaps he should leave her alone. But there was one quick thing he felt compelled to ask, moving slowly but deliberately toward her.

Hey, sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, Caracal said, but have you seen my sister? Meerkat? And then, of course, a second query occurred to him. And, well… are you okay? he added softly.