Wheeling Gull Isle trilipa

he saw heda in the young man.

old, heda. the young hunter who had come to him with a silver tongue and a slowness to share. their relation endeared him further — and it would be nice to seen a young man on the island.

please. just bartholomew. he laughed, warm like the sea's summer air. the island is open to all, but a friend of heda's is welcomed twice more. the corner of his eyes crinkled with his smile.

how good it was to see heda follow in his footsteps, to open their doors to those in need. even better to see kind faces return to her.

come and rest, ensio. stay as long as you wish. you should tell me stories of these mountains and ice.