book 1: arrivals

His name? Ah, yes, he supposed it would be good to know that. "Gilgamesh," he answers as he turns back to watch the isle grow in size. They were close now and while he felt bad for Urtur having to paddle them there, he knew the wolverine would do as told. Perhaps Urtur was his closest non-wolf friend, but those were words to be unspoken until their final days.

Instead, he focuses on the sigh that she releases. Not anymore? What did she mean by that? From the way she sounded, it didn't appear to be a good time to probe for answers. He hums again quietly under his breath, a thoughtful one. Questions could be saved for later. What does surprise him is her next question.

Room for one more? Gil thinks for a moment. Did they have room? He supposed they did. What was one more? She was tiny anyway. Wouldn't be much to feed and keep her warm. Winter was on its way out and soon the humidity of the tropical south would rear its ugly head. He can't help but chuckle a little.

"Only if you can handle the heathens," he replies with humor. Yes, he led a pack of heathens. The less-than-reputable kind. A pack that not everyone favored. He had an inkling to change that view, but for the time being, he wouldn't keep anyone on a tight leash.

"speech"