Wheeling Gull Isle golden hour

This was only further evidence that the ocean ate and spat out wolves whenever she desired.  Her hackles raised as she crashed ankle-deep into the water, teeth clashing at the retreating waves.  Once she'd successfully chased the water back to its own domain she quickly circled her packmate and sniffed him over.

He was thankfully uninjured.

Her hackles lowered but she remained alert as she moved back onto the island.  Danger.