Wheeling Gull Isle Ormai troppo lontano

Pier was indeed cute when he smiled. It took years off of his face. He needed to understand that when he frowned, he did not look intellectual and fascinatingly tortured - he merely looked unhappy.

He greeted her with the same bow, feeling foolish but not foolish enough to restrain himself. On the way to the island through the sandbar, he would try to butt his head against her shoulder in a lawless game of tag.

When he saw the priest, standing at the very edge of the shore, he froze. He couldn't believe his eyes.

It was ridiculous, he thought, to be wary of a clergyman. A clergyman, and nothing more. He cast a look back to his pretty new companion in a subconscious attempt to seek solace.