Wheeling Gull Isle kokomo

A huge white wolf, even bigger and older than himself, appeared, shouting a kind of greeting. Killer immediately rose and shook sand from his fur, eyes glimmering in the muted starlight.

Night, but yeah, he corrected gently, voice teasing. I've been here for a few days. I'm Killdeer—I'm, uh, Caracal's best friend, but also his—well, I'm his nephew, technically, but he feels more like my cousin.

He snorted at the convoluted explanation, shaking his head. The tangled Redhawk web. . . You? How'd you end up here—d'you know Heda?

It was hard not to stare at the pale behemoth. A warrior, no doubt, born and bred.