Wheeling Gull Isle Barren land, a storm that time remembers

He'd gone to the side of the island that faced out into the abyss of the sea. The emptiness pricked at his fur like a cold wind, and honestly, he probably preferred the claustrophobia of a dense forest. Neverwinter was quiet and protected, and out by where the sea hit the island, it was certainly not. Bad memories of wolves past with that backdrop, maybe. 

He didn't linger long, he'd walked along the sand briefly enough to not even get his paws wet, turning sharply away and heading back to whatever cover would be closest and continue walking that way. There was no storm coming, he just wasn't comfortable with the change of sights. He could face the nothingness some other day, there was enough for him to investigate that didn't involve it.