Wheeling Gull Isle Some feathers I stole from the birds

The world had began to change and unbeknownst to the middle child it would be one gruesome way to enter the world. The small sac that contained this potato was ripped from Niamh’s womb. As Maegi began to clean it, the chill of the ocean air had drafted over the little ones wet fur. As the cold consumed the potatos body a chilling scream was let out from her mouth. Eventually the little one started to squirm and was able to root for what nature had called for, milk.