Wheeling Gull Isle tiritchik ⌮

The rain hadn't let up for a while now. It was cold against his skin, so he tried to avoid it as best he could by hiding out among the trees. Soon Mou would have to head back to the family den to check on Maegi; the chance of settling in among the warm bodies was tempting enough to distract him from his work. He had been patrolling the beach, more-so for morsels of food than anything, when he'd retreated to a nearby grove, and then spotted the pale shape of a wolf along the sandbar.

The sight of her made him wonder if Maegi had gone off to stretch her legs; he worried immediately for the newborn Blueberry, the larger children next, but did not move from his position immediately. The stranger shifted as they sang a call skyward and in that instant Mou knew this was not his wife, wandering. This was a stranger, and she carried something with her.

The man gave a furtive look around before disembarking from among the trees. His strides were quick and long, devouring the sand, though he did not run. He slowed as he neared her position and bobbed his head in a greeting, the collar around his neck pinching at some long bits of scruff.

The tilt of Mou's head and the expectant, curious expression on his face was question enough. Who was she? What was she doing here? And then his eye trained upon the bundle at her feet -- what was that?