Wheeling Gull Isle swega

little, sweet judah. heda put down the plucking of lavender and covered his small toes lightly with her own pale paw. "papa is off hunting, i think," his mother said in a voice that wanted very much to believe and to be jovial.
the story of why caracal was not with them every night wasn't something heda thought she could explain. "do you want to help me with these, judah?" she asked, her golden eyes brightening as she set down several stalks before him.
good work in the service of god had always settled her soul before. she saw no reason why she should not seek it now.