Wheeling Gull Isle rankova

we share worries.

he muffled into the start of a fiery stripe of fur.

here i am, wondering if you might resent me already for the island's lacking. if you would resent me, if i stayed. but his voice was soft and although he spoke worries aloud, his voice did not strain with them.

he could not ignore — nor deny — the relief there always was in speaking these things to her.

the comfort she constantly brought him.