Wheeling Gull Isle dawning

The boy had been playing alone, pretending to hunt as a means of testing his ability, when he heard the first notes of Bartholomew's song. It was enough to make him stop and stare. It came from the north, the beaches there.

Mo could hear an invitation there; as his nose tipped up and he answered with his own juvenile song, the boy thought, what a nice sound! But there his mind blanked. He was glad to be singing and soon his own voice strengthened and became loud.

He hoped, somewhat in vain, that his anaa could hear him.