Blackwater Islands thorn

it was not a promise.
it was not a promise at all!
lestan raged and guilt clammed him, sorrow hemmed him.
the price for reverie were these children.
children of a witch who had stolen so much blood from his wife it hardly seemed fair.
after what felt an eon of time lestan stretched out a paw and rolled the child toward him, the small body dusty, the tiny sound echoing.
"i came over on driftwood. either i take them all at once, or i come back for each one."
voice a monotone; he could only hope reverie wished them dead as well, and would bring them back for her to decide.