Wheeling Gull Isle Some kind of change, some kind of spinning away.

Cousins? Girl cousins? Holy mother of God, Gramma Towhee really was magical!
There's other girls? her head flops to the side inquisitively. I wanna meet 'em! When you come back, can you bring 'em with you? because Gramma would come back, right?
She's given assistance with her little sand-bed, which earns a little squeak from her. On Dinah's side, it's gravely uneven and covered in little pawprints, with Gramma Towhee's much more even — but that was okay. Dinah wished she could pull their creation from the ground and keep it as a memento.
She flops down beside her with splayed legs, belly pressed up against the shore; sand coats her entire lower half. She would totally not track all of that into the den later. She glances briefly to Gramma Towhee before she looks to the purple-pink paints scattered across the sky, dappled with clouds and tiny stars that just begin to reveal themselves. The sun is blinding, and she decides to shield her little face behind a raven black shoulder.
I'm gonna miss you, she says, then, in a little tiny voice. it's boring when you're not here.