Wheeling Gull Isle when silence gets too hard to handle

She stood on the beach, where the snow faded into sand, staring in horror at the cloud of smoke on the horizon.

Not here. It couldn't come here. Fire can't jump water—

And yet hadn't it crossed streams, racing from tree to tree, wreaking havoc on the hollow? "Mama!" she heard, shrieking in her mind, and her ears flattened, the sea-spray mixing with sudden tears.

Please, no, Maegi begged in a ragged whisper, her eyes fixed on the foreboding dark plume. Not again. Not again.

This was, she supposed, her punishment. Divine retribution for her congress with Mou. She had given in, had given her husband her body, and would now pay for it. They would burn—no, others would burn, for the two of them never did.

Others would burn, and they'd be left among the smoldering wreckage, vowing never again.

A shudder ran through her, coursing through blood and bone and lifting each and every hair on her windswept pelt.