Wheeling Gull Isle Jetsam

malakai spun off obediently, and heda cradled the man close as he spoke. on his salt-rimed lips was the word of god, and her heart leapt to hear it. "i'm heda. that was my son, malakai. sweetharbor will take care of you while you recover."
the sea lapped against them; the warm air brought the flurrying of lavender scent over the pair in a cascade. everett was there, now; she looked up at him. "malakai found him. he's very weak. i don't think he can make it up to the greenhills, so let's take him to the lion's den. i took care of someone there, once; there's a bed and good light, and it's away from everything." she was rambling, voice trailing off now as she stared helplessly down into the face of the waterlogged stranger.