Dragoncrest Cliffs This island our prison, our home.

Meat. The idea of it was upsetting. The image of the bird drifting up into the mist with Requiem in its claws still haunted her mind, though she wasn't sure if she'd actually seen it happen, or if she was simply putting an image in her mind herself. It was an exaggeration of reality, what she imagined; the eagle with wings as broad as the moon, its beak and claws long and hooked. And in them, her brother- tiny. 

The gulls seemed forgivable. But the eagle would forever be the villain in her eyes. 

"Fish be better anyway." She said. After all, there was less gore and mess with fish than there seemed to be with everything else. An idea struck her, and she snuggled next to her Grandmaman kittenishly; a child about to ask for a treat. "Grandmamaaaaa," She lilted, looking up with shining eyes. She fidgeted as she spoke. "You t'ink we can...You t'ink dere mebbe be...We free de bird, which is doing a good t'ing, so....Mebbe, when you do- when I do good t'ings, dere mebbe be...Mebbe I can 'ave a treat? You can fin'...Can you mebbe- be dere...Sea urchin?" Sea urchin eggs were a delicacy; something that she lacked the confidence and skill to scavenge for on her own- they were so prickly, and she didn't want to draw her own blood. But they were her absolute favourite, despite how tricky they were to open.