Wheeling Gull Isle nolla

A woman had come. One coated in pale shades and bigger and taller then Malakai in all manners. He was, after all too, still a child. A child which had taken the mantle as the speaker of this island, a Missionary for those who came to seek and to listen. 

He watched her stride the sandbar that connected the island to the mainland and when she was standing on the beach of Sweetharbor, Malakai was striding into her direction. 

Welcome to the holy land that is Sweetharbor, traveler. He greets, his voice clear and firm, yet not unfriendly. Perhaps God believed those who remained here were ready to open their doors to the world again. To bring new life into this quiet place.