Wheeling Gull Isle they are one person

It was time. Time to put a face to the name, to put an end to her constant fretting. Not that this would alleviate the latter, not altogether, but it did establish a sense of. . .reality? To know that he was here, that he was real, and that he was not going away any time soon.

She left Mou with the children, giving him a gentle kiss upon his brow and telling him she'd be away for some foraging. And it was true, to an extent. She needed to get out of the den and stretch her legs, free herself from the constant demands of growing children.

And they needed to eat. So there was that, too.

Maegi began the walk around the island's perimeter, heading down to the pale ribbon of beach that encircled the forest while all the while keeping her nostril's flared for traces of @Phox's scent. She wasn't on an urgent quest for the man, but she did intend to run into him today at some point.

She needed to know him, know whether he was the monster so many Redhawks were in her mind, or something else. Someone to be reasoned with. She would not know until they met.

As instructed, Phox had remained on the outskirts of the island. He hunted what he could find, although it was different than what he was used to. Mostly injured gulls who couldn't fly away from him. He moved inland only to bury his findings in the cache, then quickly resumed his life on the sandy shores. It was a routine that kept him occupied, but physically and mentally, much of his days. Phox kept to himself, checking the coast closest to the mainland often, searching for any signs of Niamh and their children.

Somebody approached, and Phox stopped in his tracks, a sad-looking bird in his jaws, watching. It was not Aiolos or the other one, whose name he had not caught during their brief meeting. Or he had simply forgotten it, distracted by his never-ending quest to find his mate and children.

She knew it was him. It was a face she hadn't seen before, and there were so few wolves to come upon the island as of late that any newcomer would be novel to her. Furthermore, it was a dark male, just as Aiolos had described, and he, too, traveled the edges of the territory.

Maegi squared her shoulders, putting on a brave smile despite feeling as though her limbs would disintegrate at any second.

Hello, she greeted, tail wagging gently behind her. You must be Phox. Aiolos told me you were new to the place. 

She wanted to laugh at the casualness of her tone, her demeanor. Should the Redhawks know that Mou and Maegi had effectively taken their children, there would be hell to pay. It was the worst possible convergence of events, and yet here she was, acting as if they were on a summer's day stroll together.

The woman nodded at the bird in his mouth. Glad you're settling in, Maegi said. How are you doing?

There was nothing about her that set off any alarms. Phox had never met her before that he could recall, and meeting newcomers was nothing out of the ordinary. She knew his name already, but she did not give her own. This might have bothered him, but Phox found himself caring about less and less these days. His only obsession was finding Niamh and the children.

He nodded when she said his name, then listened to her question. Phox dropped the bird at his feet, letting it lay there while they spoke.

I am okay, he said, knowing it was a lie. Until he found his mate and children, things would never be okay.

A small frown pulled at her mouth. You're not, she said, the words frank but her voice soft. And that's okay. You're here. 

'Okay' was such a pitifully inadequate word, anyway. What was 'okay'? It changed from day to day. Maegi preferred 'alive,' as it painted a more accurate picture.

Aiolos told me about your situation—I'm very sorry, Maegi consoled him, closing the rest of the gap between them to stand a tail-length or two away. I know what it's like to have loved ones missing. I hope they return to you as soon as possible.

The half-truth tasted rotten, awful, like bad prey. But what else could she say? For now, she would have to treat the man with kid gloves. And pry gently—

I knew Niamh once, long ago, she continued, and cocked her head in mildly baffled inquiry. What happened to make her leave? She seemed very dedicated to her pack.

It occurred to her suddenly that she hadn't yet given her name. In due time, she supposed.

Phox flinched, the words she spoke feeling... something. He could not place the emotion, but he was not sure he wanted to, anyway. To speak of Niamh's absence reminded him of their children, wherever they were. They're Redhawks, he reminded himself, Alyx's voice echoing in his head.

He did not know how he felt about a stranger apologizing for Niamh's behavior. It felt hollow, but Phox smiled anyway and nodded. A silent thank-you was as much as he could muster. It was entirely possible she did not know any other way to talk to him.

A rift in friendship, he said. There was, obviously, more to it than that, but the details of it didn't matter anymore. Phox would just as soon forget it and move on, if only he could find her. If only he could find her and make things okay again.

The answer was terse and left much up to speculation; not exactly the result she had wanted. She needed to know if he was a good man, if Niamh had left of her own accord and not because of some evil on his part. This meant nothing to her, and she felt herself grow frustrated.

I see, Maegi replied, letting the words roll out, just as vague. Rifts can be mended, though. Hopefully your situation can be, too.

She expected nothing, but perhaps if she kept pushing. . .

No. She feared him shutting down completely if she asked too many questions. Instead, she waited a few beats for his response—then, whether or not he answered, she added, I'm Maegi, by the way.

Sorry, Maegi, he said, his ears flattening some against his skull. It's hard to be away from her. It's hard to talk about anything anymore. It feels like the earth has been knocked out from underneath me. We've had our differences in the past, but I always thought she would put the children first. I'm worried about them... and her. Wherever they are, I have to believe they're safe. It was the most he had spoken since leaving the caldera, and if he'd been smart enough to remember anything that Sequoia had told him, he would have known that talking about what was bothering him was actually quite therapeutic.

Do you really want to know the whole thing? he asked, having previously assumed she was only asking out of habit or duty. He was curious to know what Niamh had said when she'd been here, but he held off on asking for now. He could wait until he'd shared, if that was what Maegi wanted.

The words that tumbled out of Phox's mouth only served to make her feel wretched. For a moment, she considering blabbing right then and there. She'd keep mum for now, but—ugh! How she understood his pain! And had a chance to mend some of it, and yet. . .

At his question, she gave him a soft look, trying to quell the uneasy guilt churning in her belly. Only if you want to tell me, Maegi assured him, but it seemed as if he was on the cusp of spilling it, anyway. She stood quietly, patiently, waiting for his response.

This would go a long way in determining their next move.

Wanting and needing were two entirely different things. Phox paused, wondering what good it would do to recount that day. He felt that, no matter what, he could not have "won" the situation. If he had left Towhee, she would have hated him, and he knew he could not suffer that again. Instead, he had let Niamh go, thinking that maybe she needed to blow off some steam before coming home and reconciling with her sister-in-law.

He took a deep, somewhat raspy breath, and began.

Niamh and my sister, Towhee, were best friends before I knew the former. I got along with Niamh right away, but we were both spoken for at the time. Fast-forward a year, and we'd both been widowed. To say our relationship had a rocky start would be the understatement of the year, maybe even the century. No matter how much we fought, we always found a way to make up with one another. I thought... I thought this was one of those times. Towhee and Niamh were fighting about... Phox paused, searching his memory for why they had been fighting, I don't even remember. Niamh wanted me to choose her over my sister and... I have let Towhee down before. I couldn't do it again. Niamh ran away, calling me a coward, and I guess she was right. Maybe I am a coward. But I miss the hell out of her, and I just want her back so we can raise our kids together.

What Phox unfurled surprised her. Niamh had been so vehement upon leaving everything behind when she came to the island, and for what. . .a family feud? A quibble between siblings? For a few moments, she thought he must be lying—and the thought never truly went away.

But a liar was rarely so candid. He went farther than she had expected, and she found herself staring at him in mournful sympathy as he wrapped up.

Of course you do, Maegi murmured into the silence between them, once he'd finished. And I can understand not wanting to let your sister down. My mate and brother, when they led alongside me, never fought. . .but I don't know what I would have done if they had, and I had been in your position.

She cocked her head, prodding the stick ever-so-slightly farther into the bushes. Is she your only sibling?

She listened without interrupting, and Phox found that retelling it just made it hurt even worse. It must have sounded ridiculous to Maegi, but it was the honest-to-gods truth. She seemed to have a similar dynamic with her own sibling and mate, which Phox was trying to decide was helpful or not. It just felt... hopeless.

The only one who lives around here, and certainly my closest sibling. Most of our older siblings have been long gone, although one—Raven—lives south of the caldera. We had a brother our age, too, but I'm not sure if he's dead or alive. He's, uh, not particularly well-liked after what he did to Raven. Phox wasn't up for recounting that particular story. He hadn't been around for the incident, so he likely couldn't tell it very well anyway. Phox only knew that Titmouse had made unwanted advances on their sister.

There was Orca, but she too was gone from this world. Phox felt like that had happened eons ago. Bringing her face to light now felt impossible, though he knew she was buried on Heron Lake Plateau's small, singular island.

She didn't have to be a rocket scientist to figure that one out. Did he really not remember Mou? Not by looks, apparently, nor evidently the shortened version of his name (if her husband had given it). She supposed they were lucky in that regard, although she worried that Phox would remember, one sudden day—

And then what? Jaes, what a predicament!

So it makes perfect sense you would defend her, Maegi said, nodding slowly. I hope that it can all be patched up for you. My ears are open if you ever want to talk more.

She sucked in a bracing breath of sea breeze, turning her eyes inland once more. I should relieve my husband from his post, she said, smiling ruefully. Nice to meet you, Phox. Thanks for the chat—it's nice to have a conversation that involves two adults and more than five words.

Chuckling, she flicked her tail in farewell and trotted toward the trees, the carefree look of her visage much at odds with the continued turbulence she felt about his presence here.

He gave Maegi a weak smile, feeling exhausted from the conversation (or was it due to the endless searching?). Whatever the case, Phox was ready to crash. He would find some decent spot and settle in for a nap. A nap he knew would not last long or be very restful at all, but it was as much as he could do.