Wheeling Gull Isle racharra sees a ghost

he speaks! her brows raise as he does, neverminding how his voice was coarser than the sand.

ah.. is all she can muster though. her own gaze follows his, continuing their orbit. a flurry of emotions boil in her belly (for some reason. womanhood?) — he saved me! but i don't even know his name. and he's probably not from either of the moon tribes. he had hidden from her, he must've been the presence that haunted her steps in the isle.
racharra's quick to return to him after his grunt, and he offers her a part of the island she couldn't recall seeing berfore. hesitantly, she lifts herself from her seat but one last brief glance to the moon and the mainland hold her in place. i'll go in the morning.

he's quiet, but as the pair head to the ravine, racharra's curiosity gets the best of her. do you live here? a question with a pretty obvious answer, a corner of her lips tugs downwards and her brows knit in frustration. why did words have to fail her now!
..where are you from? the moon villages? son of a military captain, perchance? no.. too skinny. can i ask what is your name?