Wheeling Gull Isle tilakurak

he was a sprouting thing of mixed blood, features speaking two languages.

( whose lines gave his face narrow-eyed length, his shedding coat a downward pull? )

name was provided; it didn't matter, discarded with laxness. 

meat-cloaked eyes grew tired of the child. the buzzing distant insects attracted dull attention.

"i was shepherded." it spoke, bitterness muffled by baritone. "kind priest, seeing my ravenous hunger for grass, showed me pastures of his island."

a subtle ripple over the features.

"heh." toes flexed. "ask the priest that. he will instill in you dread, and scopophobia."