Wheeling Gull Isle When everyone you thought you knew deserts your fight

i understand.

a throaty, thoughtful hum. he pondered on the sorts he had seen in his time. mutes, sickly, the lost. confused and wayward would always be the most difficult, he figured.

for often times they knew not that they needed to be healed.

i can send you off with a bundle of things when you have had your fill of the island. for you, for her.

for the man most of all, but he did not squash hope of a woman found.