Wheeling Gull Isle Man Machine Poem

With Thresher occupied, Moorhen allowed herself to relax a small measure. She was clean, the air was sweet, and the distant crash of waves echoed almost like a heartbeat in the island's womb. It felt very safe and serene.

Until she was again summoned to survey the girl's work. Moorhen stared in shock at the picture that Thresher had created, a flicker of uncertainty stirring in her heart. She glanced toward the girl, looking for other signs of witchcraft, but she seemed as harmless and innocent as ever.

Good, she praised, her voice echoing oddly. We must show your mother, she added. She would see what their Aralez thought of the girl's witchcraft before making any snap judgements.