Wheeling Gull Isle sing to the death rattle

Something wasn't right. She should have felt something, shouldn't she have? There weren't any of the symptoms she had assumed would arise — movement, growth — which must have meant that something was wrong.

Stepping from her den, Ying stretched her limbs and sighed. There could be no benefit found in worrying; instead, the guardian began walking toward the border to distract herself with a patrol.