Wheeling Gull Isle racharra sees a ghost

He’d seen her jerk away.

Did he smell? Or was his matted grey undercoat so unsightly? Or the strange shade of his eyes? Or more likely it was the ugly pull of skin as it twisted into a knot of purple scar tissue on the end of his arm. Judah tucks the leg out of view into the fur of his chest. The idea that he should feel ashamed of the mutilation has never before occurred to him, and now he can’t seem to shake it. 

But when the girl gives her name in return it is enough of a distraction from those glum thoughts. Racharra. Racharra.

The boy rounds his spine, swaddling his tail neatly over his legs and folding into a tight ball. This is the first night in many months that he is not alone. He spends it with Racharra.