Wheeling Gull Isle Damselfish

The two men had not made it far in their journey when Lestan was overcome with- with-

Familiarity, it seemed. Struck down on the strange loner like a bolt of lightning from clear skies. Swordfish watched him scurry, digging into the sand until he had retrieved a piece of bone. The young hunter couldn’t see well enough to make it out.

Was this Blossom?

Swordfish wondered if Lestan’s wailing had root in this little treasure. If this was what was left of his daughter, it would explain the erratic behavior. It would also explain the queer gleam that had fixed itself in Lestan’s eye. While the man cooed over his prize, Swordfish stood solemnly in the tide. It lapped lazily against his paws while he debated his choices that had led him to the land bridge with the wild-eyed fool.

Before he might speak, Lestan took flight and Swordfish bolted so that he might keep up.