Wheeling Gull Isle malivore

the spasm is not unnoticed; the woman's words not entirely trusted. the cast of her features, the glint of her gaze; there is something familiar about the woman, family, perhaps. " what has happened? " she queries gently as she glides to a stop, gaze sliding over the woman's figure, searching for the obvious, the fixable. in the midst of winter, with no stores to speak of, offering aid will surely be more difficult than not.