Wheeling Gull Isle kasheho

he moved in morning prayers.

he blessed the land, he whispered thanks.

the island was a safe haven to a fair few now, but still he found some ticking sense of paranoia whenever a new face arrived. this did not change his welcoming approach each time. only left him with a worry that one day an unkind face may come upon them.

but never, never, had a face come from the sea.

he could hardly make it out at first. perhaps a seal from the nearby spot of theirs had become lost and washed ashore here. then he wondered if it was the bear woman, perhaps she had thrown herself into the ocean.

but quickly he realized it was neither of these things. he moved with a hurriedness that was not often seen from him. frantic was not a word for bartholomew, but it fit today.

Oh Heavens, he breathed as he came upon the crumbled form of a boy. shivering. not dead, but not did he look very right either, did he?

are you awake, child?

he called at once for @Heda.