Wheeling Gull Isle Touch

Caracal had a hangover twice over: one from the fermented fruit, the other from the mixed cocktail of his emotions. He stood in the surf, the cold saltwater soothing him as it swirled about his ankles. His bloodshot eyes stared out at the horizon, unblinking despite the stinging.

Only when Judah called out did he blink, then turn to look at his son approaching through the early morning gloom. Caracal promptly waded out of the water to meet him. He should’ve spent the night by Judah’s side, even if he couldn’t sleep himself. They were both used to being surrounded by family. He would not leave his son alone in the dark again.

I can teach you anything you like, Ju, Caracal said, putting an arm around the young man’s shoulders. It’s not going to be easy, with just the two of us, but I know we can manage. I’ll show you everything I know, son.

There was something else he needed to say, of course, but it took a moment for Caracal to gather his courage and speak around the lump in his throat. He swallowed thickly.

But if you change your mind and want to find your mother and siblings, Ju, I understand. I can’t follow right now but I could get you safely to them, if you wanted.