Wheeling Gull Isle Hurry up tomorrow

Spirits croaked.


As did the bellies of looming fireflies.


From the direction which the ocean brought him to their shores, he had been traversing the east. Off the coast, where the wood of the island gave coverage, he'd found tall sea-grasses and strong strands of kelp. Isolated, where he wanted to be; somewhere that spoke sacred to him and somewhere that would not cause trouble for the people of the island.

It was on his walk along the beach that big eyes, small ears, and miscolored iris' struck his gaze in moonlight.
The night had been good for travels, where it was quiet, and he was of no disturbance to the families and their children.

The topaz-eyed little one vanished. It was slow that he traced the child's steps- until things came to a stop. Nakano no longer saw him. With a dip of his muzzle, he saw patches of fur along weeds and fibers.
Much like what he needed.

With a careful nudge, he pushed his nose against the fibers..