Wheeling Gull Isle i cannot put my finger on it now

She'd gotten pinched by a crab here. Or, at least, that was what those in the know called them—for her part, Maegi knew them only as those dreadful little pinchers, and gave them a wide berth. There was one now nearby; she passed it, huddled under a piece of driftwood, on the way to the beach.

The island was cloaked in mist today, a light rain that sometimes turned to sleet when the wind grew icier. It was freezing and blustery, and Maegi wondered why she was out here now getting soaked when she could be tucked away with her husband somewhere. Yet she continued, forging ahead, paws sloshing into the water, the waves a bracing spray against her chest.

Māzigon, she called out to the ocean, eyes pointed to the currently-invisible mainland. She called for Blue, fruitlessly; he'd been south, safe, when the flames had come, and would remain there until the spring. 

She missed her grackle. And as she thought of Blue, she thought of her old companions here, too. Who'd witnessed her first, fateful brush with the pincher? Rokig, right? And Reed had taught her about the horses; she'd subsequently taught Driftwood. Venninne had led her here—

Jaes, they were gone—all gone! This was Yuelong, and nothing but appearances was the same. Even the little places she'd come to know had been given different names.

Maybe it was a mistake to have come here.

It surely was a mistake to have come outside. And still she stood, stubbornly against the wind, eyes narrowed to slits against the wind and rain, as if it were an enemy. As if she'd come to fight—to die.

Maegi was watching her surroundings, but Natshana was watching her.  Initially, the other wolf's unfamiliar appearance was what caught the apothecary's eye.  It was her beauty that commandeered her gaze shortly thereafter, however.  She was a stroke of alabaster on the sands, a perfect composition of dove-white on the endless sea of beige.  

Natshana wondered what she was thinking, questioned if she should even intrude.  The healer's mother often complained that her daughter's gregarious nature would one day be her downfall, and perhaps that was the inevitable truth.  For the time being, though, she was content to chase her whims as they came to her.  So, she casually approached the seaside stranger.

"A new face," she commented in the common tongue, her accent giving away that she did not speak this language first.  Her eyes washed over Maegi like the tides often did at her feet but then she glanced out, over the waves beyond. "Would you mind some company?" A bold assumption, certainly, but Natshana was a staunch pillar of audacity.

A new face, came a voice over the wind, and Maegi turned, grimacing against the salt on the air. The question came—she had an overwhelming urge to say, 'No.' Instead, she nodded briefly, and angled her body back toward the waves, looking over the rolling turbulence.

I'm Maegi, she introduced herself, waiting for the woman to draw alongside her. She hadn't noticed much, still lost in thoughts, but she had noted a pale cream pelt with darker points, an accented tongue. It seemed that many of the wolves here (well, at least within the minute sample size she had to work with) spoke languages other than common speech.

Would they teach her, like Kove and Aningan had offered? She wondered if it had any relation to the northern language, or if it was different entirely, from some far-flung place she'd never heard of.

Māzigon, she thought again, missing her old mentor something fierce.

Natshana was pleased to have seemingly been accepted.  Slowly, she meandered toward Maegi to join her, leaving an appropriate distance between them at her side so as to not impose upon her personal space.  She was content to sit like that, enjoying one another's company as they watched the sea.  Regardless of the apothecary's landlocked origins, she had grown fond of the temperament of the ocean -- sometimes calm, other times violent, and more often than not a complex mixture of the two extremes.

"Natshana," she gave her name without hesitation.  Perhaps she would have liked to remark on how much she fancied Maegi's name, yet she refrained.  She did not yet know what sort of compliments the other wolf preferred and, thus, was unsure if she would find the praise childish.  So, she moved on.

"Have you returned recently?" she wondered instead, curious enough about Maegi to want to keep the conversation flowing. "I may be assuming, but you seem far more at ease with the sea than I was when I joined."

Natshana, Maegi mouthed, and then nodded. Yes, I lived here for a while when I was younger, she confirmed. What was it—her bold stance against the icy waves? The way she cried out like a madwoman to the sea, and what was beyond? Maybe Natshana really was that intuitive.

You're not one of. . .Huā's, she said, doing a little assuming of her own, though slurring a little over the leader's name. It would take a while longer for her to get it—and the pack's moniker, too—down. How did you end up here?

She turned her head to observe the woman closer. Yes, cream and brown, and a pair of striking, hawkish eyes. Bright yellow. It felt as though they were boring right through her, and Maegi averted her gaze, glancing over the curve of those dark ears instead.

Natshana nodded, trying to imagine what sort of life that must have been. "The pack I was born into lives exclusively in the woods," she explained further, as though it was necessary.  Her discomfort along the shore was likely evident.  The way she walked alluded to a wolf whose life was dictated by the certainty of solid earth beneath her paws.  She was unaccustomed to the shifting nature of sand.

When Maegi appeared to struggle with Huā's name, Natshana smiled somewhat.  She, too, had a difficult time parsing both the Empress' and pack's names in the same way she was at times clumsy with the common tongue.  She understood and sympathized.

"I came here on the order of my Commander," she answered honestly. "In my culture, the Commander's word is the law. She asked me to join the ranks, and so I did." Her words were purposefully vague, and she did not give out Praimfaya's name intentionally. "Why have you come?" the question was posed back to Maegi with a similar curiosity.

She remembered the first time she'd ventured from the shadows of Blackfeather Woods. That forest was darker than any other, too, and stepping into the sun was a whole new world. One she didn't necessarily enjoy, at least at first. Maegi had grown used to sunlight and open ground, but it had taken a long while.

In short, she understood exactly how Natshana felt, out of her element.

Maegi nodded in understanding, then fixed her eyes intently on the woman at the explanation that followed. Commander—the wolf's old home sounded rigid, regal. She hoped to draw more detail from Natshana eventually, but. . .in due time.

I came here as a girl, she said briefly. And stayed a few moons. My husband and I have decided to return, try and make a home on the island. 

She cocked her head, unable to stifle her curiosity. Did your Commander come, too? Or were you sent here alone—on a mission of some kind?

Husband. It was an interesting admission that struck Natshana solely because of her superficial interest in Maegi.  Beautiful as she was, it was no wonder she had already supposedly stolen someone's heart.  She narrowed her eyes as she silently tried to picture what Maegi's husband was like.

"Were you disappointed to find a pack has settled there?" she asked plainly, choosing frankness over flowery language.  In Maegi's pawsteps, Natshana might have been irritated herself.  What if Maegi and her husband wished to start a pack of their own in their former home?  A steady claim put a wrench in that.

"She did come," Natshana responded evenly to Maegi's first question. She would have to be careful not to give too many details away.  Praimfaya had enemies that her cousin was now privy to. "but she has gone, and I was told to remain. So, here I stay -- learning, and occupying my time." Yearning for a home far away from the reach of the sea.

"What are your trades, Maegi?"

She shook her head. Worried, Maegi clarified, and a little upset, at first. I didn't know what had happened to them. I hope they're safe, wherever they are. Her eyes left Natshana and traveled over the choppy waves. Was there another island elsewhere; had Seelie and her family settled there? Would she ever see them again?

She told you to stay, even though she herself left? she asked, putting aside the notion of trades for now. She wasn't entirely sure what the woman meant by it, anyway. Does your loyalty run that deep? I once led a pack, and many of them left, even though I stayed. And when I tried to move them to another territory to keep us safe, nearly everyone went their separate ways.

The ire still remained, even after all this time. It surely rang in her voice, a note sharp and hollow all at once. Betrayal was not something Maegi forgot or forgave easily, if at all. And she wondered what kind of power or charisma this leader had to compel Natshana to stay in a place she barely knew—and without her commander.

Or. . .what Maegi lacked as a leader that she had failed to earn that kind of fealty.