Wheeling Gull Isle Revenge of the orchestra.

Tell her parents? No, Dinah gives a fervent shake of her head as if doing so would be an absolute cardinal sin. no, no, they can't know. I can't tell them. She can picture it now, the shattering of heart behind Mama's pale eyes, Daddy's cries of anguish over his lost and forsaken child — would they send her away? Banish her; forbid her from leaving or perhaps cast her from her Isle for good? For God's ignorance must be her problem! She hasn't repented enough, prayed enough, she has done something to earn such horrible horrible treatment;
She reels back as the little bat skitters and disappears into the ruff of Towhee's nape. M-maybe he is deaf, like you. I don't know a lot of ptero, though. Do you really think that's why he can't hear me?
She peels further in the opposite direction of the greenhills, tail cowardly tucked at her heels. Lavender, yes, the lavender always made her feel better.
Her little mind races and flutters. Maybe it wasn't her fault. Maybe— no, no, it couldn't be. But?
Gramma, if other people don't know God, what else do they believe?