Wheeling Gull Isle ak zèl

her limbs trembled. one howl and then another, one young and one older, giving them entry into sweetharbor. she looked down at her crying sister and then swallowed. "come on," mireille breathed, pacing them along the wet sand. the ocean seemed to stretch all around them, and that fear of losing the shoreline dipped.
her stomach roiled. she was determined to be strong, not to collapse or be weak. not now.
how fitting that the first to meet her should be the one she had so castigated with her words. mireille let out a wondering, self-mocking laugh, sinking to her haunches.
"a bear. on de cliffs. it —" her mother's screams suddenly burned her eardrums with the memory, and her breath grew jagged. "my mot'ers an' sisters be fightin' it now. it hurt two of my brot'ers an' ano'ter woman, just before —"
mireille shook with terror for a moment, digging her claws into the sand and thinking she might truly be ill. "now we be here an' ask for sanctuary. ot'ers will come."
they had to come.
her voice was harder than the rest of her could manage to be now.