Wheeling Gull Isle he can hold you, and shake you child.

for a moment, both withstood the bite of the other’s stare. they did not know yet their shared darkness: each an asp clad in ruffled wolf-furs, yet cut from the same snakeskin.

ava’s nose snuffled over the bare spot. it smelled damp, of brine and seaweed — but the slate was licked clean.

while malakai moved away, she did not forget the curl of malakai’s tail, nor the hostile fireshow in his eyes.

onwards the seabeast forded, large gouges in the sand left as it trawled towards a band of kelp.

ava fell in step behind it, playing by herself as lonely children often do.