Wheeling Gull Isle kasheho

heda could not avoid him forever. and nor did she want to do that. she missed bartholomew, his nearness. his teachings.
she wanted to talk of the fish. the fisherman. her name. his own. 
fatherhood.
the boy on the bank was sodden and dark. heda sniffed carefully over his body. "you're on the island." her smile was easy, gentle.
"what's your name? sit up, but slowly." she sought to steady him as she did so.