Wheeling Gull Isle maybe i should start at the end

Hours pass and she sleeps deeply, so deep that she is lost even to dreams. Nested beneath a snowy tree - itself growing from a ridge adjacent to a lavender field which has seen brighter days - she is protected from the winter winds and patchy snow. Where the roots might have once tangled against clay and limestone, there is an irregular drop towards the mouth of a cave. The overhang serves as further protection. 

The sky has fully darkened by now; the stars glimmering beyond the haze of cloud. The moon watches from afar, a misty glow surrounding it like a halo. Stolen light like a leaking watercolor.

This time when Nukilik wakes she knows she is on the island. She remembers the ghost and the dark-capped girl. Her shoulders ache, her neck feels pinched from where they had been tugging at her. The woman tries to adjust her position in the descending hovel of dirt that is her sanctuary - tests for weakness to her bones - and aside from some tenderness to her ribs and a general exhaustion throughout her body, she is intact. A breath of relief sighs through her.