Ouroboros Spine wonzen

Aiolos treads the same trails he had time and time again, worn by the footing of his own and the footing of others which called themselves scout or guard of the lands. He is following Shikoba's trail, a pair which had passed one another in their duties many a time before. Likely, a break too from the confines of the den where her two latest pups stirred. 

When he draws nearer, the brilliant ears of wolf do not fail him. He listens to the visitors names, where they come from. With this, ginger ears of his peak with interest. 

Aiolos comes as Shikoba is offering the visitors into their home. He greets his companion with a low woof as fiery eyes move over the traveling couple. You speak of the Gull Isle north of here? He assumed such. He had walked the path of the coast time and time again. He knew of no other islands other then the much smaller turtle island further east. (Although he was wrong, not having gone further to know of the Blackwater islands). I once called the island home for years. And it had been years since. I am Aiolos.