Wheeling Gull Isle unalaq

heda felt defensive of bartholomew, though she couldn't articulate why. "he's not old. he's just — not a kid." she wanted to stop talking now, about him. about fathers. something ugly clenched in her throat and was gone. 
"is anaa like, what, your mom or something?" heda asked with a wry grin. "uh, he prays. to god. and i think he prays to god for her. she's real. but she can't be whole until maybe god makes her that way. or something."