Wheeling Gull Isle A measure of memory

The man who approached her had a long, calm stride. Everything about him, in fact, seem long and calm, save for the wavy curls that perhaps had been shaped by the sea air, though Thresher had never seen any with quite so much curl to their fur. There was a wholesome gleam to his goldenrod eyes. A faint smile was coaxed from her, and she bowed her head in greeting as he came to meet her. 

"Peace be," her response genuine and sweet. "I am Thresher," She explained, "I was born here. Wheeling Gull Isle, it was, Undersea was my pack." She spoke fondly, as though reminiscing about her birthplace. "My family left long ago to live inland...The rest be long story too...But I have come here looking for  home once more." She said. She knew- as someone familiar with pack protocol, that he would want to know her skills, next. "Can fish. I do know island very well. And weather." She said.