Wheeling Gull Isle the up & up

Despite her greatly-improved circumstances since rejoining her Shadow, Doe had gained very little weight. This was due, in part, to the bone that almost always occupied her mouth. She couldn't eat when she was guarding Syzmon, and she was guarding Szymon whenever she thought there was someone else around.

Today, though, the bone-white male was hidden away somewhere deep in the island, where she'd circled and backtracked and rolled around until her scent could not possibly lead to him - not even with the best nose in the wilds. And Doe skittered down to the common areas, feeling strangely vulnerable without the bone to hold - as though it had been protecting her, rather than she, it. But even if that were the case, she felt secure in its absence; no one could steal it from her if no one could see it.

The rail-thin shewolf stood by the river and began to fish.

The nights had gradually begun to carry a chill in the air and while the tall pines of the island remained ever-green, the broad-leafed trees had started to transition into their fall hues. The thought of the cold season didn’t trouble the thick-coated Gampr much, but he had never wintered in this area before and wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. In the company of the Man he had been truly nomadic, traveling from one part of the country to the other, staying sometimes for months and sometimes only for weeks before leaving again. Still, he knew the island was far enough north that they would see snowfall, and he had begun to consider that they should move further inland and establish a communal den of sorts for efficiency. It was something he wanted to speak to Coelacanth and Faeryn about the next time he saw them but in his roaming of territory this day he hadn’t encountered another soul.

The island was quiet. Even with the addition of the newcomers. There still felt like there was a disconnect between them all, a dissonance, that they were all still strangers and not a cohesive unit like a pack should be. And he wasn’t sure how to remedy that.

He ambled along a well-worn game trail that led towards the river, lost in his own thoughts. He catches Doe’s scent drifting on the afternoon breeze as he gets closer to the water source, and curiosity about the silent shewolf who his Seelie seemed familiar with draws him from his contemplations. He follows the game trail to the river then treks downstream towards the scent until the dusky colored female comes into view. The Armenian watches her silently for a moment, his gaze tracing the outline of her ribs and the points of her hip bones visible through her fur and notably, the absence of the jaw bone she had been carrying previously. Not wanting to startle her, he clears his throat to announce his presence, tilting his head to the side slightly, “Having any luck?”

Doe began to panic the moment she heard another's approach. She didn't know these wolves, and even though she ached to, the idea of one of them coming upon her now filled her with a heavy sense of dread. She might've fled, but it was Stockholm that came into view - the leader. The skinny shewolf backpedaled a few steps, ceding the river to the bigger wolf, but did not otherwise retreat.

At his question, her ears flickered uncertainly. Not yet, she wanted to say, but words were still hard for her, and she kept her mouth clamped shut against any other sounds that might threaten to escape.

Silently, she stared at the other, waiting for something to happen - for him to do something, because she didn't remember how things like this worked. It seemed like so long had passed since she'd had someone to talk to, someone to be with.

He doesn’t mind the silence. There is plenty that can be conveyed without words, and he doesn’t have any issues holding a conversation up on his own. His time with Seelie has taught him to be more observant of body language than he might have otherwise. He turns his attention towards the river so that she doesn’t feel the pressure of his gaze on her, “I’ve never been any good at catching fish. Seelie tried to teach me once but.. well, I failed miserably.” The memory pulls a smile across his features momentarily and he casts a brief glance towards Doe before turning back to the water source, slowly making his way down to the riverbank.

“Maybe if we work together though, we might have some luck?” He leaves it as a suggestion, not wanting to force his presence on her or drive her away, but it pains his heart to see her in this condition, and not just because she is a friend of his Coelacanth. “I can try to flush them out and downstream to you.”

When the little shewolf had determined that Stockholm's words were inviting, she crept a little bit closer, eager to drink in the companionship of her pack. His voice was soothing, but his words were short and to the point. Doe whined when he'd finished speaking, and came closer still. He wanted something from her, and Doe wanted to please him.

She moved down the river a few paces, her tail whisking uncertainly. The look she gave him was tight and hesitant, but she stood ready in the water, waiting once more for instruction.

It was so difficult to think about things like this. Hunting had not come easily to her since... since something. She knew, in a very vague sense of the word, that she had not always been so thin or haggard, but she could not remember what had happened to change that. Szymon -

Doe blinked at her husband, ready to assist him in the hunt.