Wheeling Gull Isle solitude

Maybe it’s the salt? he bantered back. It pickles you, helping you achieve your final form.

It didn’t happen often but sometimes, Caracal felt clever. Now was one of those times and he relished it for a moment.

Heda’s talk of a god distracted him. He had been raised to think of stuff like that as malarkey, though Caracal was an open-minded guy. Even if he didn’t necessarily believe in these things, he could totally respect that they had meaning to his friend. And even if he never bought into it, he found himself wanting to learn more, if only because it seemed such an intrinsic part of Heda’s life now.

Sure, he said when invited to check out these fields. Tell me about this god dude? he added lightly.