Wheeling Gull Isle A ghost beneath the tower.

They crossed the sand bar at low tide, hoisting a river fish from the Totoka as a shining banner before them. The fish twitched against the coming death and went limp as it met the salt-heavy air.

Nukilik felt the life leave it; absorbing it into herself, they felt confident and lively as they found their way closer to the island. In the coming hours the sea would swallow their path. They tucked the fish against a wet band of sand.

A breath, a song.

Hua?