Wheeling Gull Isle Just because I play the piano

Stockholm had woken that morning equally motivated to do something, he just wasn’t sure what that something was yet. It was like an itch he couldn’t reach, under his skin. A nagging at the back of his mind. He wasn’t used to staying in one place for so long. Life on the island was considerably different than the life he had previously led, and he really hadn’t allowed himself time to think about that, to make peace with it.

Outside of marking borders, hunting rabbits and attempting (and failing) to keep tabs on the wolves on the island it felt like there wasn’t much to do lately. So he set off aimlessly, looking for that something without knowing what it was.

It seemed sometimes like he could go whole days without seeing another member of their fledgling pack, so when he spots Faeryn his ears perk up and his spirits lift noticeably. “Fae,” he calls out in greeting, tail whisking back and forth against his hocks as he approaches. “It’s good to see you.”