Wheeling Gull Isle one of my turns

Though a comfort, she was so unfamiliar with the concept of being cuddled that it was alien to her, discomforting after a while. With a small sniffle and a butt of her head to the woman's shoulder, she extracted herself from the embrace, the undamaged corner of her mouth set in a tremulous smile.

"Thank you," she said, wagging her tail. "I-- thanks." She looked away, feeling suddenly awkward, as if she weren't meant to be there. Well, she wasn't meant to be here. At least the woman was kind, but why had she followed? Her craving for love warred with her yearning for home, and she felt momentarily paralyzed, rooted to the ground in indecision.

She could cross the land bridge, try to go home. Leave while the woman slept with her child by her side. No one else would notice; no one would follow. Perhaps someone off the island knew where to take her. But who could she ask? How could she tell who was ally or enemy to Blackfeather Woods?

She was trapped. She had trapped herself an eternity from home.

"Do you know someone named Cicero?" she asked on impulse, wondering if her father and the boys had crossed by the valley on their way to wherever in gods' name they were headed. "Gray and white, with eyes like mine, different colors?"