Wheeling Gull Isle You Dream About Going Up There, But That is a Big Mistake

"Driftwood, it's fine," she insisted, voice sharper than she intended. Taking one final look at the horses, Maegi stood shoulder to shoulder with Driftwood and helped him back away--if he took the steps with her, that was. It was much like a toddler leading a Great Dane, but the humor in the situation was, as usual, lost on the solemn Maegi, focused as she was on the task at hand.

Once they were, hopefully, far enough away from the horses that the man calmed down, she fixed her gaze on him, allowing a small smile to bloom over her face. "There. Feeling better?" She could empathize, at least. She had been scared of the horses when Reed had first brought her here; how could you not, with hooves and great grinding teeth such as those? They could dash the wolves to bits, if they so chose.

But the thing about fear, she'd learned, is that if you let it rule you, you were doomed. Fear was a weapon, not a defense. Others would use your fear to their advantage; only bravery--but not necessarily foolhardiness--could act as a shield against your enemies, the ones you were afraid of.

"I haven't seen you around much," Maegi remarked, canting her head to one side. "What do you do here?"