Wheeling Gull Isle If you can’t beat ‘em

Acceptance. Or some form of it. He was given the title of hunter, one that fit him well. “Lost soul” might have been more accurate, but Phox had a feeling that wasn’t an oft given title, no matter how appropriate it might be.

The pale wolf offered to show him a place to rest, and Phox nodded warily. He was part of Yuelong now, although he felt it would be a long time before he believed it deep down. He knew that in his heart, he belonged to only two wolves (and their children): Towhee and Niamh. Until the latter was found, he would stay here and wait for her return.

Sounds of waves crashing would make it difficult to sleep, Phox knew that much right off the bat.

Thank you, he said, glancing to Aiolos and then the pale wolf.