Wheeling Gull Isle tongkola

frustration followed humiliation. she felt his eyes on her. she felt the vibration of his voice before she heard it. he moved and his warmth enveloped her. heda could not remember the last time she had been so close to someone. perhaps caracal, who had engaged in her fib of husband and wife, had laughed, had disappeared. and she couldn't blame him. she didn't.
but she was so tired of being alone.
her lips shuddered. she wanted to answer and yet she could not. her weeping continued. seabirds flew overhead, their harsh voices bringing her roughly back. the smell of the sea grounded her. the feel of the sand; she flexed her toes in it.
"how can you make me free, bartholomew?" she asked, but this time there was no skepticism, only pain, only pain in the way her mouth trembled and ears splayed; in the way her body instinctively wanted to lean against the lupine familiarity of his own, in the way that she tensed to keep this from happening.
the sobs began to subside in their own way, but the rift that seemed to have opened in her chest was endless and agonizing and she could feel the first staccato thunderclaps of rage coming, further back inside her.