Wheeling Gull Isle racharra sees a ghost

His eyes waver between the girl and ground, determining that the safest place to land was somewhere in between. Each of her movements causes an anticipatory prickle down his spine. How long had it been since he’d shared space with another? So long that the hope of conversation was obsolete.

Yet he questions- what’s in her mind? Is she afraid? Is she comfortable here? His gaze goes to her as she lays, wondering. The air around the greenhills seems to tremble with disquiet. He waits for her to settle then edges away, bedding down in a patch of loam just outside. The hollow quiets, but when the wind howls against the denmouth it sounds like the wail of familiar ghosts.

“It’s Judah,” the boy speaks gently, lifting his eyes once more to look into the dimness. Without starlight to illuminate her, he sees nothing of the girl. Somehow, that is easier.