Wheeling Gull Isle tongkola

the notion that she had given something to him without knowing it stunned heda. she had done no more than exist and this man spoke of the ways she made him feel. her mind raced back over his words.
i cannot tell you the last time i have felt so free. so cleansed of the things that have plagued me.
it was no small wonder that heda at last lost a battle she did not know she was fighting. her lips trembled, face contorted. and though she looked away she could not hide from bartholomew. she didn't even know why she was crying, except that an old rot was coming through with each sob.
she felt it blackening her throat.
she could not look at him; she did not know what to do with that contemplative and ageless expression. the cries felt endless, rolling out of her mouth in shards of pain that cut her palate and exhausted her voice.
"i want to be free," was all heda said after a while, voice small and almost too low.