Wheeling Gull Isle immunity, long overdue

The darkling child is hesitant. Just as much as Dinah herself was.
Now that she thought of it, she hadn't really said or done much with the darklings. She knew not what their names were, or if they had them at all. She hardly looked at them, and if she did, it was only when asked. She had been too busy mourning the perceived loss of her parents to pay attention.
And as she approaches of her own volition and the child looks up at her with his bleary cornflower eyes, the guilt is a freight train that smashes into her flank and throws her to the ground without mercy.
They were just babies. They didn't understand, did they? It wasn't their fault.  
Is for you! she exclaims, excitement peeking through like a dingy light at the end of a hallway. She leans down to nudge it closer to him with the tip of a little brown nose. Is okay, you can have it. 
But Dinah is not so quick to grow attached. She backs up again immediately, tall ears panning outward as she studies him. For all she knew, his jaw could unhinge and he could swallow her whole. Conflicted by what she knows is right; torn in half by pity and resentment, jealousy and curiosity.
But in this moment, there is none of that. They are just two scared little kids.