Wheeling Gull Isle sacrament

he did not allow himself to think on how he so enjoyed her features lighting.

instead he focused on evading her. when she dashed left, he dove right. his salt-water curled fur flowed with his movements. any who gazed upon them from any point on the isle might mistake him for somebody else entirely!

bartholomew had never been a frolicking man. not here, not in these wilds and not upon this island.

yet he became undone before this mystical woman.

soon enough his playful movements were cutting down towards the shoreline, where the water only just barely lapped at the land.