Wheeling Gull Isle somewhere only we know

bartholomew's scent was on this woman, as it was all of them. it was in every part of sweetharbor, and until this very moment in time, it had always provided heda with serenity.
the woman's striking pale-blue eyes met her own and a wan voice beckoned. "i'm heda, the advisor," she said, trying to force warmth into a voice that felt mechanic.
bartholomew played and laughed with all of them. she shouldn't think so much of it. "are you settling well on the island?"