Wheeling Gull Isle peace offerings

Someone met her here. She saw him over the splashing of the waves. Tall and dark, and decidedly unhandsome, in only so much as that she could tell that he was not wolf, not really.

But he did not look dangerous and she dragged herself on through the rolling sea, until her paws met sand and she scrambled for ungainly purchase upon the shore.

She breathed in heavy breaths, and shook herself dry, and her clear gaze stayed upon him.

Uncertain. Discerning.

But unafraid.