Wheeling Gull Isle Damselfish

There were tracks.

Swordfish lingered, sniffing at the pawprints left behind by others. He wondered if there had been a group who had lived on the island. It seemed like a difficult place. The young wolf was fond of the sea, of course. He would always belong to the salt-touched waters. That did not mean that he could isolate himself in such a place.

The young wolf watched Lestan with a wary eye, expecting the man to split in two and wash out to sea in some horrific tragic end. The man seemed occupied with searching. Waves lapped around them, reminding the bear-hunter that their time was limited. They would need to search quickly.

Drawing his snout upward, Swordfish called for @Blossom and prayed that she would answer.