The light grey wolf with patches of translucent coral skin had washed up on the shores of some island, coughing and soaking. He was lucky to be alive, he thought as he stood and shook sand from his long pelt that was now crusty and salty. He thought he could scent wolves here, both male and female. Was a pack residing on this island, which seemed to be teeming with life? He could see plants as well as, farther down the strip of sand, a lone seagull. Hmm. There had to be plenty of prey around here . . . Elridge was hungry. Yet, he knew it would be unwise to hunt just yet, for there was a possibility this island was home to a pack. He was loath to just take prey from wolves who already lived here, at least without permission. He had known packs whose members would kill lone wolves for that, even if it was something as slight as a vole or chipmunk. Plus, it just wasn’t very good etiquette.

“& now you’re tearing through the pages & the ink.”