Wheeling Gull Isle a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied

Where others had banded together, Constantine had shadowed himself in to obscurity. He had watched a group aid a dark she-wolf who’s life had seemed to almost flicker and wane with the storm, and he had known another group existed somewhere, though he had not met up with them. Instead, the wraith had kept his eye on the others from a distance, gauging their intent, and often times wandering away to determine his whereabouts.
 
Death had not come for him in the tides of the ocean, and now he realized he was on an island. There was a way off though – depending on the time of day, but Constantine had yet to venture across the sandbar – what was there to return to?
 
So when the other called them together – a male he had watched with intrigue, the swarthy Mayfair responded in silence – but with his presence.
 
Others had gathered – none he knew, though his eyes flickered with nostalgia upon a white she-wolf. She was making her way to the one who had called them – but he knew it could not be her. And yet somehow – miraculously – she turned when she greeted the tawny male, and he could not doubt that it was Aria who stood within the group.
 
He felt his heart stop. Did he flee? He ached to go to her – she was even more beautiful now than he last remembered her. But where was Floki? And why was she here?
 
Before the urge to flee could quicken, he boldly loped forward, weaving his way between the others – his fiery eyes set only upon Aria. “Constantine Mayfair,” he introduced, his muzzle only dipping now to establish his respect to the one who called them here – and to the ghost he had once followed loyally, only to lose everything in return. "And if Aria remains, then so will I to serve."