Wheeling Gull Isle With scarves of red tied round their throats

Takes place at dusk on 5/26. Only two others please. :)

With great care, Phox tracked Niamh’s scent to the beach, but it went cold there. He went left, then right, finding no traces of her scent for miles in either direction. He had seen the island all day, but the water had been too deep. While Phox knew how to swim, he’d never consider himself capable of going that far and surviving. So he waited it out, scouting out everywhere nearby to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.

And when the sea curled back in on itself and gave way to the sand bar, Phox tentatively made his way to the island, coming upon their shores covered in sea salt and sand. He looked every bit as ragged as he felt when the thick scent of pack hit his nostrils. He didn’t notice any prominent scent of Niamh, but this was the closest he was going to get. Maybe they would have a lead on her whereabouts.