Wheeling Gull Isle going in town with six rounds

It bothered him not that there was to be no forced indoctrination. It was perhaps better that way, though he felt certain there were downsides to that as well. Yet like minds had a way of finding one another, no matter how adrift they were. Even if there were differences in the old gods they prayed to and called upon, he knew that the craft remained relatively the same.

"I think that I would," he found himself answering. The reservation was still there; he made no move to guide them closer to the sandy pathway that would take them out to that isle. But he made no move to turn away and debate a quick retreat. A linger prickle crossed him instead, thinking of the wolves of the Hollow, and then passed. She had not inquired his history and perhaps she was truly kind.