Wheeling Gull Isle Hurry up tomorrow

He has one consuming vision of peace and order all within his realm of control- as much control as a four month old pup could have, anyway. Across the sand he lugs a driftwood stump wrought from the sea, roots and all, to make good on his promise for a fort where he and Ava could camp. He’d chosen a west facing site right off the shore. It wasn’t near the tide pools so feeding would be a trek, but it was the most ideal area because it was remote, and now it would be their side of the island.

He's had fun digging out the base, arranging rough pieces of wood then ornamenting the sides with ordinary things he’d found; tall stalks of sea oat and cordgrass and the stringy fibers from giant fruits. The result was a sort of disguise. It wasn’t just a home; it was a secret hideout.

He couldn't wait to show Ava!