Wheeling Gull Isle Look monsieur, where all the children play.

Whatever chaos surged through the veins of these darklings, whatever it was that Dinah could not comprehend, she knew of it.
She did not know what it was, and the Lord would not tell her the answer. She had sensed it ever since the day they came to her Isle; they cared not for anyone but themselves with their milky eyes and empty smiles, these children bathed in soot and ash. Their very existence spoke of something dreaded.
And oh, God, how she'd tried to love them.
She prayed for weeks, begging for the answer; she heeded Simeon's gentle words, she taught and smiled and laughed and hugged; and she watches, in this moment, as the garbled war-cry of a heretic hits her ears and through the mist in her eyes she can see the ivory teeth of an abomination; she watches as everything she had worked for crumbled to sand. The trust, the peace, gone.
And yet she did nothing to stop what she saw.
It was wrong, yes, wrong of Ana to attack the innocent man. Or was he innocent? She did not know. Did it matter? Mama and Daddy would be so mad. Did they even care?
Yes yes yes no yes no no no yes—
Frozen is the little redheaded girl, tears welling as snot dribbles down her chin; frozen.