Wheeling Gull Isle nemiyon

Caracal’s lips pursed as he stared at the mainland, devoid of any familiar faces. He drew in a deep breath, then let it out on a sigh. He turned, walking along the beach a while before deciding to head to the forest edging the island. He found a seabirds’ nest on the ground at the foot of a tree, perhaps knocked down by the temperamental winds as the seasons prepared to change. There were four eggs tucked inside it, two of them intact.

He devoured the two cracked ones, shells and all, then carefully rolled the remaining pair into his mouth. They clicked against his teeth as Caracal headed toward The Greenhills, eager to deliver breakfast to Heda but moving slowly on account of his precious cargo.

He found her at the crest of a slope, where the views were the most splendid. Caracal stopped and dropped his head, gently depositing the eggs in the dry grass near her feet. He smiled at his successful delivery, then raised his head to behold Heda as she looked down at herself in wonder. He cocked his head and smiled.

Morning! I brought you— he began to say when the scent finally hit him.