Blackbeak Bluff don’t do it, don’t give it up

It was then that Komodo took notice of the waif’s apparent discomfort, for he was an intuitive man and her apprehension was thinly-veiled. This he did not like, as he found consent and autonomy to be of the utmost importance, even when it came to something as trivial as spending time with one another — Komodo did not like to push things that were not meant to be. But that was surely not the case here, as this starving girl must have been through the ringer and a little trauma was to be expected, understood and accommodated for.

She did not need to alert him to the fact that she was a novice hunter — he had figured as much. “S’okay. C’mon,” he reassured her. She would not need to hunt here, nor at Undersea, if she so desired. The island left them wanting for nothing, so Fawn could always contribute in other ways. The brute stepped forward, placing one saucer-like paw in front of the other and flicking his chin in the direction of Wheeling Gull Isle. They could at least make headway towards their final destination and see what prey potential they found on the way. Though the sunlight would soon begin to fade, he was certain they would make their beds upon the beaches just across the channel from the islands. Perhaps the close proximity of these ‘others’ would but the girl at ease. 

Certain his young charge would not make a fuss, he started walking inland, in a southwest trajectory. “alrigh', alrigh’, alrigh’,” he burred, preparing the girl for his official inquiry. He heaved his heavy gaze over his shoulder to look upon her. “Where yuh from, ’n why y’all ‘lone?”