Wheeling Gull Isle nevermore

And he saw her, a flicker in the corner of his eye, as he tossed another scrap to the circling raven with feathers mottled like the past. And he took her to be some shimmer of a seabird hoping to be a part of their feast, so he tore another morsel from the fish and prepared to toss it her way, when he realized he was face to face not with a bird, but with a wolf, who blended as seamlessly with the gray stone and turning waves as he did with the dusty bluffs and sand.

Simeon tossed the morsel sidelong, to where the piebald raven busied itself. His gaze - warm and intense - remained fixed on the girl.

You hungry? he asked, as ordinarily as if he'd expected company in a place as lonesome and quiet as this. It's fresh. Here, and he pulled off a more sizeable chunk and tossed it towards her, far enough she could grab it and run. Close enough they could talk, if she risked herself and stayed.