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

malakai settled between blades of emerald seagrass. ava kept one thin ear turned to his person, half-anticipating some sort of reprisal. 

transfixed by psalm she watched as the grazer turned its attention to her small offering, sniffing with deep draughts of breath before turning its head sidelong and seizing the verdant stems in its beak. 

did it like it? ava’s gold-studded eyes lit with childish joy. as the turtle ate, she scampered off to the bushes for more sprigs, laughing each time she deposited a new plant — finding joy in seeing what psalm ate with gusto, and what she overlooked for better offerings.