Wheeling Gull Isle the woes of the fool

Others are free to join, obviously.

Strand stopped pacing when the woman showed up. She glared daggers at her, baring her fangs. “Listen up, bitch,” she said, her voice strong but almost at the breaking point already from simple, abject fury. “You stole my island and I demand that you and your… your shitty followers… leave immediately!” Yeah, that would get ‘em. The beach-colored woman—for she was a woman now, having just recently hit her second birthday—stalked up to the black-and-white leader and stopped a foot or two away, growling menacingly. She rolled her shoulder from an old injury that had never healed properly, which ached from her swim in the cold water. “If you won’t leave, I’ll fucking kill you.”

It was only after this very obvious threat that she even noticed the male who had come up to them. She kept her head aimed at the leader but her eyes flicked to the dark male and gave him a once-over. “Who the fuck are you?”