Wheeling Gull Isle vaucha

bartholomew spoke gently and heda listened. no one had told her of such things, and so his proper vagueness kept the allusions floating out of reach over her head.
ironically then, his lecture against himself held little sting. heda could not imagine him cruel. meanness seemed far beyond bartholomew. perhaps he counted shouting and yelling also as sins.
but his features were grave. "when i left atautsikut, i was angry. it's not a person i want to see anymore. but sometimes i think she's part of me, that furious kid."
suddenly heda wanted to leave the cavern and return to the sky and wild air and the greenhills.