Wheeling Gull Isle Well I like who you are

vomits into the text box

The move from the forest feels like too little, too late. It feels hollow. It feels like another loss, where before it might have felt like a victory. She's slow in the process of moving, occasionally lagging behind as they get closer to the island. Investigating the new growth nearby is the excuse she gives. In reality, she's taking the time to brood. But there's no more time for it now, it seems; they've arrived at their new home, and now she has to put on a smile for her children and her mate and pretend this doesn't all feel like the end of the life she'd tried to carve out for herself. She enters the scene trailing far behind the group, offers a quiet smile, and allows herself to fade into the background. It's all she can manage.