Wheeling Gull Isle ak zèl

Arriving next round or so - Daniil is almost at the bridge atm

Two low calls came across the sky. The first, a girl's voice, harried and gut-wrenching. The second, from the boy he had met earlier.

A dark worry shaded his face like grime on linoleum tiles. Something terrible had happened. The rupture between the before and after belched noxious smoke into the sky.

He fell into stride ahead of Aquilius. The strand seemed to loom ahead of them like a taunting skein gone unspooled - and at the bridge's end was the girl who had called for them.

Even from this distance, recognition struck him like thunder. It was the redhead that had sent him to Sweetharbor with bared teeth. In the week or so that had passed, she had garnered a sort of mythology in his mind, a fierce and unabiding force-of-nature. Yet now she stood there stock still, face pale with pain.

Was it his place to welcome them in? What would Heda have done?

He broke into a run. Waiting was not an option. He loosed a brief howl, praying that she could hear it. Come in, come in.