Wheeling Gull Isle Some kind of change, some kind of spinning away.

not at all!

She is suddenly gripped with a strong force and her little body is manhandled — womahandled? — into the correct direction of Weast. Apparently, she did not know where she was going.
But there are no complaints to be found, only a soft Oh, right! as if this had been her plan all along.
She walks ahead of Towhee with surprising strength and speed for such small legs. She no longer wobbles and bobbles, but lopes and bounds forth with the gait of an almost-wolf. Still not quite, but getting somewhere!
She turns just a bit more towards the landbridge, which is currently well beneath the waters of the tide, but she can see it in her mind's eye. Her gaze softens, a wistful sort of look, before she looks down to start brushing away sand with her two front feet. Here, she would dig a bed for her and Gramma to lay in; or at least try to, as her paws are only so big.
Here! Even with her pride as inflated as it is, she raises an eyebrow in search of confirmation. I think.