Wheeling Gull Isle If you can’t beat ‘em

The call at the sandbar-border made Aiolos quiver and the hairs along his nape rise. He had never been a man for weaving lies and it seemed like it wouldnt get away with this one easily. But he was always a guardian and so he came as such.

He arrived from the brush along side Mou to look out upon a salt-soaked Phox, having swam across without the sandbar yet been offered as easy passage. I do not think this will lie can be hidden for long. He whispers to his packmate, though his fiery eyes are fixed on Phox in the distance as he waits. Maybe if they didnt show, he would leave.

Aiolos waits awhile. Ten minutes, twenty, more? Every second for him seems to linger like hours as he watches. Will you fight to protect them? Surely he would. They were not his pups but they were his little nieces and nephews. Family.

Aiolos then steps from hiding, moving along through the tree line where the forestry and hillside centered their island and on towards the beach. No such luck, I take? Aiolos knew it to be certain but it wouldnt be obvious to any that he wouldnt be here if he had been successful.