Wheeling Gull Isle OTHELLO, I WILL AVENGE YOU

If they can take me, they may. He who can may keep the sons. But the daughters are yours, she responded, not shaken by the thought of being taken by a man. It would not be the first time. And if this time it was done to serve something, particularly this woman? She would not back down from this oath. She took a step forward to be all the nearer to the woman, bitter for the first time over the wicked disfiguring grin she bore that the woods of Donnelaith had given her. An exhale more befitting of an oxen than a wolf was expelled from her nostrils, a warm breath of admitted tenderness for the other. Wednesday had always preferred women to men, but not in a romantic fashion, simply for their existence and her perceived superiority over the lesser sex. The inquiry was met with a nod.

The others words were thought on. She supposed it might be better to keep such a thing a secret, that she would kill for this woman above any other bar herself. She would not be used for her attraction. And she would boldly deny it to any but the one before her. And then a name was asked. I have many, Wednesday admitted, What would you call me? And, after a moment, What would you have me call you?