Wheeling Gull Isle no resentment ever evened out a weaker hand

Last from me, but feel free to continue if you want!

It is not long before their voices diminish, but he can see with a shift of his good eye that they have not left him and he is contented by that. But he is also tired, and the frustration of his failing voice and lack of ability puts him at odds with his caretakers. He feels a void, something beyond his injuries and perhaps deeper, something lacking in his mind perhaps — this he does not dwell upon, but Mou does bask in the increasing warmth within his hideaway. So many bodies produce so much of it, and he soon finds it difficult to focus. As he drifts in to a light sleep, he dreams of things that will not hold for long in his waking mind — the roar of the sea, a fierce red shape soaring above his head, but nothing of consequence.