Wheeling Gull Isle leizashou

A voice. Warm and soft, calling to the small child like an angel straight from the white clouds of Heaven itself. 
She had been crying, yowling at the top of her tiny little lungs that held such a surprising level of power. A loud shriek, lonesome, calling for a home that she was already at. 
But when the hum hits her ears, she stops. She is quiet, droning out into a small hum, and one tiny paw reaches graciously for a mother she cannot see.