Wheeling Gull Isle iii. awaken

The island stood abandoned, a perfect picture of solitude; beautiful even in its emptiness. The pale Blackfeather led her companion (@Makan) across the sandbar with prancing steps, turning a circle as she walked to catch the blue of his eyes with her own. A brilliant smile lit her ice-carved features when their eyes met.

This place is mine, A breathless whisper, tail a blur. It could be ours.

he is changing from shadows.

he has changed from dark and somber.

there is life to him and he is breathed into by saltwater airs. the irony of finding the sea now is not lost on him. nor is the way that it brought forth change into his life, that lapping waters had shaped him like he was a cliffside.

is this why she had wanted it? needed it?

but he can only think about her for a fleeting moment, because it is her here now. there is no jealousy in his heart when she says it is hers. there is only warmth and wonder.

ours.

and he is drifting, practically swimming through the electric air towards her. dazzled and excited! thrilled! a lashing of his tail, a lift of his head with a brilliant gleam in his eyes. something that had not been there the first time he had looked upon her.

Nothing mattered then but this moment, right here: that starlight glimmer in his nightblue eyes, the coil of excitement across slim dark features and the joyful motion of a shadewisp tail and —

she realized all at once that she loved him.

How could she not?

She'd been nothing more than a ghost when they'd met; lost, and she'd meant to lose him, too. Instead they had found one another — or was it themselves that they'd found?

Maybe it made no difference.

Blue beckoned him onward, leading him on a tour of the island which had always held her heart. I was born here, She told him, soft voice brimming with affection. They called me Blueberry. Blue.

And now I'll call you Cobalt. Blue added, gaze finding him again.

this was where she came to life.

not just one the day her blood had met soil, but today too. she is not a wisp. she is chatting and she is vibrant. he thinks of the coyotes who had sung and spoke in words he thought he might never understand. he thought of the bear, carefree with its plucked berries and how it delighted in the meal.

he thought of himself.

not as miserable makan, not as a haunted shadow.

but as cobalt. brilliant and shining cobalt. polished and cleansed by blue, by the saltwater and fresh island. he cannot speak but he is radiant. grinning and windswept. wild and free.

worries had not crossed the sandbar with them.

he is running off towards a field, hoping she will indulge him.

Shadow and light, dancing joyful and fearless across a field;

and this place would be theirs. A place to always return, no matter how far their restless feet took them. The place of their beginning, and perhaps one day they would find their ends here, too. But not today.

Their play stretched into long hours; the sun faded; Blue yawned and flopped into the sand, and was unceremoniously done. She stretched out, tail still thumping against the ground. We could fish, She suggested, yawning again, and her stomach rumbled as if roused by the thought. There's still enough light. Maybe.

in the sand he found himself.

worn, spent, but not exhausted. not tired of this. he wished for more even when his energy had waned. yet as they laid here and he felt the edge of seafoam push against his spine, he thought this was not so terrible either.

after all, if they slept here, there would be another day waiting for them tomorrow.

more sunlight and more running free.

he only rolled onto his stomach at the mention of fishing. food was a good idea. he would need it with this sudden increase in energy being spent. his tail offered slaps against the wet sand packed earth.

slowly he rose into a stretch. then shook his coat with humor, knowing it might spray both sand and seafoam around. there was the coltish desire to run from any rebuttal, but he lingered to make sure she came with.