Wheeling Gull Isle Silence lay steadily

“Probably ran off,” the boy scoffs, limping forcefully over hill and gully, catching his breath whenever the road ahead stretches out straight and flat. They are thick into the woods now, with not a glimmer of coastline in sight and only a wooded forest that verged them into mountainous pathways, the likes of which Judah had never hiked before.

“Dunno if you’ve noticed, John, but that’s what Redhawks are best at,” dryly, he cursed their family name like it’d been an ill omen from the start.