Wheeling Gull Isle yksi

He felt a pressure lift from his chest, and a great breath left his lungs. As the weeks slipped by them, he saw more that perhaps it would be no one to join them in the winter.
That he would break his own bones to keep Malakai’s from splinter.

“It would bring me great joy. A welcome and tradition long needed for us of Sweetharbor,” he laughed out the dryness of it, and accepted the warmth that came with tradition of a newcomer. Of hunt, and full bellies, of prayer. He could only be thankful for the blessing of their new arrival. And pray she stayed.