Wheeling Gull Isle I am the owner of nowhere land, queen of a castle that’s made of sand.

tiny ava amara, in that moment, was a tyrant — her teeth rounding out punishment against a soft and supple body that did not fight back. 

this was not ava’s design, and as her sister’s sobs rose to a crescendo ava halted and looked upon dinah’s slouched form in confusion.  

without a strike in return, there was little impetus to fuel her for further warfare; her fury ended as soon as the last smarting from dinah’s blow faded away. she set back upon her heels, ears pinned. 

but she wanted nothing to do with promises of a new flower; she skulked away from dinah as the girl repented, finding her own band of raggy weeds to present to towhee.