Wheeling Gull Isle solitude

No, that was someone named Blueberry. Caracal paused, wondering why that name was familiar, and by the time he realized Heda’s answer didn’t add up, she was sweeping down the hillside. He jumped to his feet and nearly stumbled in his attempt to catch up, thanks to his shitty depth perception.

Sure, he distractedly answered her question as he put himself to rights. Just no geese, okay? Caracal joked. Which reminds me, I kinda dropped the whole medic gig. I don’t really know why, I just stopped caring, he shared half-truthfully, well aware that the situation with his eye had shaken his belief in medicine.

He stumbled again. Slopes were still a bit tricky for him, even though he’d otherwise adapted. Caracal grunted and sorted himself once more, feeling a little idiotic but shooting his companion a bemused grin.

Oh yeah, and I suck at hunting even worse than I did before, he told her cheerfully.