Wheeling Gull Isle not all girls are made of sugar and spice and all things nice

Moorhen knew no god. No one had ever explained the concept to her, but if they had, she would have thought of Doe. Sometimes she looks as the yellow sun as it hangs over the ocean and remembers being small and helpless, trapped under the power of the red woman's gaze. It is a secret that only she and Coelacanth know; they had both been her supplicants, once upon a time. Sometimes, Moorhen wants to ask about those days, but she is a simple creature. She doesn't quite dare.

Doe was far from her mind as she set eyes on the stranger. Here, she is the adult, the god, the protector. It is her duty to get to the call before Coelacanth - to assess the threat before the sweet-natured Aralez showed up to spread mercy and goodness. If the girl was worthy of such things, Moorhen would not eject her before Doe's Shadow had the chance to arrive.

"Hello," Moorhen ventured as she approached, stalking up to the stranger with her spine bristling but her gaze merely questioning. "Why are you here?" Moorhen hoped no one else had died.