Wheeling Gull Isle OTHELLO, I WILL AVENGE YOU

Her eyes flashed at the others words. A girl. Truth be told, Wednesday believed in nothing. But she would be damned if she did not believe in the other. So beautiful was she, how could it be but for how she said it? And the chaos and cruelty of it enamored Wednesday to her further.

The other thought to give her something in turn, and as Wednesday thought to deny her it, her own selfishness persuaded her to hear this woman out. What the other said she had not considered, and she squinted at the others words. Children, she had said. And the cruelest thought of all came to her. I would stay and endure this for you, too. If I had daughters—they would be yours to do as you would with. She herself had no desire for children, either. Her loyalty was seemingly to this woman alone, now; Wednesday would have her, keep her, in a way no man could. I would kill them all, and my companion would, too, should they think to touch you. Her ears thrust over her brow, looking the other into the eye. Chaos. It was what she lived for.