Wheeling Gull Isle still cutting shapes

Caracal was completely alone for the first time in… well, he couldn’t remember how long it had been. He enjoyed it for all of five minutes before the quiet started to downright spook him. He scuttled from the den site down toward the lavenders, hoping he might find his wife.

She wasn’t there, so he meandered southwest toward the outcropping of rocks that stood sentinel just beyond the land bridge. The August day was warm but breezy, the sun currently tucked behind fluffy clouds. The stones were warm to the touch. Caracal slithered onto the tallest one and stretched out with a sigh. Basking was nice, though he was really up here to scan for any sign of company.

@Anathema