Wheeling Gull Isle when i was a child, i caught a fleeting glimpse

Unsettling as it was to find the island void of anyone familiar, Titmouse was matching his wife in his own thinking; the island itself was not any different, they knew this place better than anywhere else. There were issues with claiming the dark wood for themselves again and the pair had been driven this far afield because of them; to Titmouse it was the combination of bad memories with bad scents on the wind—this island was the furthest thing from the tunnels of Sithis and the relatives that had been caught so close-by. It was a haven for the two of them once and it could be again.

He was silent, the fur of his nape bristling but contained against his neck by the leather band of his collar. Titmouse turned and drifted closer to Maegi, brushing shoulder-to-shoulder with her, while keeping his eye trained singularly on the girl he did not know. He wanted to trust that things would be safe here, different, but after all that the pair had gone through already... It was difficult (maybe impossible) for Titmouse to take things at face value.

A low murmur issues from him then, bundled in his chest. A note of concern, lilting like a question. He will do whatever Maegi wants—anything he chooses will be far worse in the long run, as history had shown him. A moment later he clears his throat and says lowly to her, We stay?