Wheeling Gull Isle fayaslais

in one moment he was worripa; in the next he cast her down and ended heda.
violently; breath torn from her in a rush. a thousand emotions crossed her face. her lips contorted and brow furrowed. words wished to come and yet they could not —
i am the dreadfather
what kind of stupid fucking name was that? but heda forced herself to look at him, at the scars on his muzzle. maybe he had been worripa once. but he wasn't that anymore.
"skaigona is dead too."
her voice was tight and grim. nausea chased itself inside the column of her throat. why was he here? this was worse than not meeting at all again. there was such a rift, and then a cold deluge of awareness that she was unsure she even loved the individual standing across from her.
that she loved no one.
and at last, tears began to sting heda's eyes.