Wheeling Gull Isle tilakurak

voiceless, it watched the boy come nearer. 

( an outdoorsman's stalk, the way a striped, wriggling thing was a butterfly. amusing. )

its teeth bared in a smile, when the child showed perceptiveness.

"i am not." the voice was a deep, androgynous rumble. its forelegs crossed. "i am not anything. much like you."

it studied his face, its own obscured by creases and ridges of flesh.