Wheeling Gull Isle mashallah

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this was worse. this was much worse. the drawl was impenetrable; where he would have normally caught one in three words, he was only (at best) seizing one of five. his brows drew together as he struggled to piece together the meaning, trying to find the most relevant sentiments in the bunch, weeded out from the figurative language. haye allah.

"mountains," rehan responded, having picked up on the last question, at least. "north. i--" his throat closed with sudden nerves, and he grew angry at himself. had he not once been a powerful man? why was he now cowering before this (admittedly strong) wolf? he firmed his jaw, lifting his head to stare the other directly in the eye.

"i want a home," he said, punctuating each word, enunciating all syllables. "hunt. fight. care. all things i can do. i can stay." now it was not a question, but a statement of fact. there had to be dead weight floating around the island somewhere, someone they permitted to stay who didn't quite contribute. rehan was not that kind of soul.