Wheeling Gull Isle solitude

heda knew him well enough to sense he was unamused with their antics. "of course," she told the darkfurred man, pressing his paw with her own.
a flame raced through her heart. she told herself that he did not wish her in that way.
her red stripe led their way down to where caracal stood streaming with water. he hardly looked changed, older a little, with his eye still ruined by that long-ago bird. "it's good to see you again," she said gently with the poise that the island had given her. "this is sweetharbor. and this is our teacher and mentor, bartholomew."
her golden eyes were soft on the man.