Wheeling Gull Isle drink and shout

the island had been besieged, and heda felt her resolve shift ever so slightly upon the axis in which she had always put so much of her faith. near drownings, tears, kidnappings. disappearances. she felt stretched thin to wax paper; she could not be on all sides of the island at once, and blamed herself for the way the strangers had taken —
faith in god, heda reminded herself. but the idea of bringing them off sweetharbor for a time, perhaps to moonspear where she could finally not feel the strain of their few adults — that would be lovely.
the sweetharbor woman put her faith in god and her husband, and it was the second one she chose. she would need to speak with him first, but the more she imagined towhee's smiling face and meerkat's welcome, the more vibrant the idea took hold inside her mind, until she experienced the first stirring of elation in a while.
caracal was climbing the greenhills as she descended them. heda called out to him with a grin, though her delight soon became concern. why was he staggering? the acute anxiety of the past few months sharpened into a painful vise; she sucked in breath and rushed toward him.
the reek of fermentation poured off caracal, the sickly-scent of the fruits opening a portal in her mind where she recalled all the times she might have scented it before; coming to bed; waking. heda tried to tell herself it was not, but the sloshing look of his expression told her otherwise.
hot and angry tears sprang to her eyes. heda turned and stormed back the way caracal had came, the fragrance strengthening. there must be a collection of them; oh, god, why had she been so foolish? why had — why hadn't she seen it?
this was not something she could allow their children to witness, their father's drunkenness. heda slammed a branch to the ground, breaking it in fury, then composed her hard breaths enough as she trotted back to caracal. "you're going to sleep this off, now, and then we're leaving," heda said, offering her shoulder for what was truly his undeserving touch. how could he? how could he! had this been happening all along? what if — "is this why ava almost drowned?" came the croak of her voice before she could even stop it.