Wheeling Gull Isle treibloka

"the lavender fields," heda breathed without hesitation, gesturing to where the fallow stalks bobbed emptily for now, save for a faint mist of promising purple still pulsing here and there. "when late spring and summer comes, the sun shines through them and that whole part of sweetharbor smells wonderful for months."
she wore none of her trinkets now, no lacings of salt or dry petals saved from the hot times tangled in her fur. but the next morning she would, lover to the island itself.
heda turned the gold of her eyes to the soft darkness of his own. "what about you, daniil? tell me what you see first, and we'll go there."