The Sentinels sing a song of sixpence

There was trouble on another island. Moorhen had stepped up to follow in Coelacanth's steps, but at the last moment, had remained behind. But days had passed, and at long last, she'd abandoned the refuge of Wheeling Gull Isle. Her paws had carried her along the coast, skirting wide around the other coastal packs to find her way again to the scorched stand of trees.

She stopped there for a moment, breathing in the aged scent of fire. She was always taken back to some far-off place; one that she could not quite remember even in her deepest sleep.

With one last look around, she bid farewell to the coast, and turned to travel inland instead.