Wheeling Gull Isle she’s a 10 but…

it would have been easier if caracal had gotten upset and stormed off. but that wasn't the kind of person he was. instead he gave her the distance and asked softly for her to clarify. heda's ears splayed in relief and dismay. she stared down at the saltwater fed sedges between them, knowing one day the wind curling up to she and caracal would be rife with the scent of flowers.
of lavender and sea-rose and anemone, of heather and the fragrance of fruiting trees. 
"i had a dream, a while ago. it was — it showed me that i would be a mother." here went nothing. softly she straightened, turning her gilded eyes on him once more. "but i didn't really understand it, not really. it was about — creating pieces of myself that turned into suns and moons. i —" a soft laugh. "i think one of those were yours. the — shapes."
she knew she wasn't making sense and felt the unsurety of it. "you're part of whatever this is, caracal. so am i. but it's more than us," and now she slid her paws toward his, willing him to take them once more. "it's not about us. it's about what god wants. it's about what is best for sweetharbor."
her voice was gathering a still soft power.
"i need you to stand with me in his light if we are going to go forward. everything we do here is sacred. including marrying or b-being together."