Wheeling Gull Isle nevermore

An island. The wolf who was really a storm had never seen anything quite like it before. She'd seen islands, of course, but never one that loomed so close to the shore. Never with a bridge of sand she could cross while scarcely getting her toes wet.

The figure in the distance caught her eye quickly, though she wasn't quite sure what to do with sudden company. She went very still, bright eyes tracking the other wolf's movements from afar. Her tail hung loosely at her hocks for now, not threatening but not quite friendly either. She watched, waiting for the moment he saw her.