Wheeling Gull Isle belief

The man did not seem disturbed, which was good. He welcomed Mo closer and the boy happily acquiesced. While he wondered to himself, Bartholomew expected an answer. The boy didn't know what to say - he looked out to the wind-whipped sky, bruised purple and blue and gray, and the agitated sea.

It sounds angry, he explained. The water. It -- the sky too. It looks like, when I came to the island. Bruises. He frowned and looked at the man, but the look did not stay grim for long, as present company gave him something to be pleased about.

It smells good, though.