Wheeling Gull Isle chichplei

forgive all assumptions will edit anything <33 

what wonderful songs those of the isle knew! he'd hear them sometimes, find their traces when they came to the mainland. pleasant landmark for the bard to pass in his repeating travels, плимска језерца to кршевина and back!

these days he stayed near, yet, as much as he turned his ears to the sea - from the isle came not a note, not even a sound.

fish still fresh in his belly, the bard had only curiosity to blame when he saw waters retreat from the sand bridge,

and without a thought, made to cross it.

[...]

there were scents, scattered as they were. his guess was stragglers or vagrants like him; hungry ones, come to claim the island's bounty. 

but they could still tell a story, solve a mystery. slavo proceeded on deeper in, nose to the ground, following a recent trail.

where the land turned hilly, he found a pawprint. fresh. slavo lifted his head, to trough the gaps in his tassels try and spy its maker.

they were as if poured out of sunlight, 

rimmed by the star they faced. along their back ran a stripe of a richer hue, spreading over their shoulders. their back to him, they remained quiet and still as if praying.

all of it, the light, the cross, the framing- 

slavuj had to admit, it was quite angelic.

he'd gone mute and open-mawed at some point. a bug saw its opportunity for a glorious kill, and flew straight into his windpipe.

the bard wheezed and went into an unflattering coughing fit.