Wheeling Gull Isle she’s a 10 but…

The seawater felt incredible on his weary feet. As eager as he was to see @Heda, Caracal crossed the submerged sandbar slowly, letting the ocean swirl around his ankles. When he finally waded onto the beach, he dug his toes into the soft sands, set down the object he carried in his mouth and released a happy sigh.

Honey, he called, breaking the island’s morning stillness, I’m home!

He just hoped she was back too. There was so much to tell her about his trip. Moreover, he wanted to hear about her visit to Sapphique. He wondered about Mireille and the rest of the wolves on the sea cliffs. Were they okay? Would the pack recover from the attack?

He looked down at the souvenir he’d brought home with him, an old turtle shell he’d found. It was cracked but in good shape otherwise. It even held water; he’d tested it. Caracal traced a toe over the grooved carapace, wondering if Heda would like it.