Wheeling Gull Isle kasheho

When he'd spied the island floating in a haze off the shoreline, it wasn't even Mojag's intention to seek it out. He'd learned to be careful with the edge of the big water - but then, after falling asleep where he thought it could not reach him, he was awakened to the feeling of weightlessness and nothingness which the cold water instilled.

The white noise of the sea left him in a state of calm which he might not have survived otherwise, keeping the boy more relaxed than what might be considered normal for someone his age - or in this sort of situation, as he was, swept out by the tide.

The cold was immediate, and numbing. He'd kicked and tried to fight the pull of the water but he was young, and he was weak; weeks of hunger had sapped him of any budding strength the boy had once contained. As feeling left his legs and he bobbed there, swathed in salt, he thought of his mother and let out a cry.

By morning he'd been thrust upon the edge of the island and left there. Mojag was a mound of melting chocolate upon a rocky beach, left shivering by the tide. The trauma of his journey wasn't something he could face just yet - but he was very much alive, and very, very confused.

he moved in morning prayers.

he blessed the land, he whispered thanks.

the island was a safe haven to a fair few now, but still he found some ticking sense of paranoia whenever a new face arrived. this did not change his welcoming approach each time. only left him with a worry that one day an unkind face may come upon them.

but never, never, had a face come from the sea.

he could hardly make it out at first. perhaps a seal from the nearby spot of theirs had become lost and washed ashore here. then he wondered if it was the bear woman, perhaps she had thrown herself into the ocean.

but quickly he realized it was neither of these things. he moved with a hurriedness that was not often seen from him. frantic was not a word for bartholomew, but it fit today.

Oh Heavens, he breathed as he came upon the crumbled form of a boy. shivering. not dead, but not did he look very right either, did he?

are you awake, child?

he called at once for @Heda.

Feeling came creeping back in to his limbs, which he learned were still attached and quite sore, and his arching back which felt bruised in many places - not that Mojag knew the tenderness was exactly that. Breathing hurt. It felt like the time he ate some meat he shouldn't have - like his airway was constricted, but really it was raw with salt.

Are you awake, child? A hanging, almost lopsided face came in to Mojag's periphery; he was not so jaded that he might flinch away from it, and in fact was quite stunned to see two bright eyes so full of warmth and life, that he was awed, made silent. He gawked and quaked in his own skin.

I -- I, I'm -- where? Where am I? It wasn't until he tried to talk in earnest, that Mojag realized how out-of-sorts he was. His teeth chattered through the words in a violent way, and he nearly caught his own tongue between them.

heda could not avoid him forever. and nor did she want to do that. she missed bartholomew, his nearness. his teachings.
she wanted to talk of the fish. the fisherman. her name. his own. 
fatherhood.
the boy on the bank was sodden and dark. heda sniffed carefully over his body. "you're on the island." her smile was easy, gentle.
"what's your name? sit up, but slowly." she sought to steady him as she did so.

he was grateful that the hunter arrived as quick as she did.

she seemed far more composed than him for once. bartholomew only found sorrow in his heart for this boy. wayward, waterlogged.

had he been less frazzled in that moment, he may have found some unique connection. that somebody should float down the water to their island. biblical!

he remained silent as heda took lead here, acting as a barrier against the sea and the boy. not keen to see him go out to it once more.

Within moments, it felt, there were two of them. A woman's smile and an explanation to answer his stuttered query, for which he was thankful even if it did not give him as much awareness as he'd hoped.

My n-n-name? I, mm, Mo. His mouth wouldn't stay closed long enough to allow enunciation, and he was too tired to try his full name, but Mo would do for now. The woman moved to help him as he rose up.

Almost immediately, something churned in his gut and Mojag was heaving forward, coughing up a chest-full of water that stung his throat and splattered garishly across the rocks. He felt immensely better after, but his ears spun and slanted.

it seemed the sea had brought him here. heda was watchful and attentive, grateful that bartholomew let her handle the situation. she had not know she was made for it until this hour and this moment. 
the girl winced as he vomited, pale ears lifting.
mo. "mo. i'm heda. this is bartholomew. don't worry. we can help." heda was afraid he had swallowed seawater, and pressed close, cleaning the ocean from him in long sisterly gestures of her muzzle.
finally she looked at bartholomew, a timid smile creeping to her muzzle. "maybe we should take him inland. to the others."

a splatter of saltwater and acid against the earth.

the boy would need to rest and recover, to be properly hydrated.

he nodded at once in agreement with heda's decision. to the greenhills, i think. it was as inland as they could get, to assure he may not drift right back off!

are you hungry, mo? although he looked to heda for guidance now. would eating even be well advised in this state? what if he still needed to bring up even more water?

Okay, his head was a little bit more clear now. His stomach felt soured, like he'd gorged himself on old meat - and when the long-faced man asked after his hunger, the boy started to nod but then stopped, looking all the more unsettled by the motion.

Nn, no, just-t, c-c-cold, sir.

There were others? The long-faced man looked to the woman, so Mo followed that gaze and glanced between the two of them. Everything was spinning for a second so he braced himself against the nearest body.

Mojag's breaths quaked out of him as he adjusted his weight, nosing awkwardly against the stranger's shoulder until he was more in control of his exhausted body, and sagged back. Sorry! Sorry...

bartholomew's eyes were on hers own again, the two shades of gold meeting. and heda felt strength rush through her limbs. the greenhills. she nodded, feeling strangely protective over the boy. of course he should be taken to the highest place on the island.
she would help him stand, nudging him gently toward bartholomew. "no need for sorries. i'm going to hunt. i'll be back with something for him." she looked at their guest. "even if you don't want to eat. just something." heda paused for the boy who had washed up on their shoreline.
then with a glance to her mentor, the young wolf cast off into the tall grass.

not that bartholomew was a strong man in the flesh, but he was currently stronger than the boy. enough so to be the balance for him.

pleased that heda would go and hunt, find him something to eat.

come. the walk isn't far but we'll take all the time you need. then you can eat and rest.

he wondered if the boy might tell them more details of where he had come from, what he had left behind in the wake of the sea.

did he even remember?

For now all that Mojag could do was follow, slowly. His body quaked with every step. His once plush coat was matted by salt. Slowly he went, until the hills came in to view; this would be some time after his discovery upon the beach, but his sense of time was terribly skewed by his deteriorated physical state.

He would not say much as Bartholomew offered himself as support, and barely noticed when Heda left to do some hunting. Given some time to rest perhaps his usual liveliness would return - but for now, Mojag was a shadow of his former self, eager for sleep.