Wheeling Gull Isle words from my heart

she’d become immersed in ocean water, relishing in the familiar (and yet foreign) feeling. salt clung to the fur which floated atop the sea’s surface and stiffened it into flat planks of white which she stood studying until—

a voice, one that knew her name. ying turned away from sunset to face the mother and child, noticing the bright sprite which hid behind his mother’s forelimbs. what was she to say?

if she’d once known them, she certainly didn’t now.

after a moment’s silence, ying walked back toward the beach to shake any debris from her coat. silence permeated between them, and until broken by ruó, there it would remain.