Wheeling Gull Isle hell hath no fury

He couldn’t comprehend Judah’s reply anymore than he could understand the way his son looked at him so strangely. He didn’t react to his father’s touch, so Caracal let his paw drop. It trembled. So, too, did the rest of his slender red frame.

“Gone.”

He flashed hot, then cold, then hot again. What on earth had he done that God should take his whole family from him like this, sans one son who looked at him this way? Caracal was far from perfect, that was true, and he made mistakes all the time. But he’d always tried to be there for his family.

I was having a hard time and the fruit made me feel better. I know now I shouldn’t have touched the stuff. And I never will again. You have my word, Caracal said, seeking his son’s gaze.

But it couldn’t be just about the fruit, could it? He’d only imbibed a few times. Despite his wife’s accusation, he hadn’t even come across it until long after he’d rescued Ava from the blackfish. And unless he was missing something, he hadn’t done anything in particular whilst inebriated.

What am I missing, Ju? Why did your mama say those things to me? And Dinah? And wh-why, he asked, lip quivering, voice breaking, why won’t you hug your papa…?