Wheeling Gull Isle and what exactly is a dream? and what exactly is a joke?

Mal had felt that things had stalled. On the one hand, it was better than continuing the downward spiral, but that wasn't the progress he wanted. He still hadn't smiled. He still hadn't gotten Hua out of her funk. They were treading water. Mal still hadn't been very social, but he knew it was something he should fix. He needed to be a good example for his wolves.

But even though he wandered where he was fairly sure he was alone, apparently he wasn't, spotting a shadow along the shore. Cam, he called, fairly sure that was his friend snoozing by the sea. But he didn't move. Mal came closer, figuring maybe he was really that deep asleep, but it still seemed wrong. He just wanted to hope it wasn't the worst, but the worst lingered. The closer he got, the more he hesitated. But he went closer because he felt he had to -- if only to prove himself wrong. But Cam didn't move, and at a certain point it did become clear why. Darkness.

With an anguished yowl, quite audible to any nearby, Mal crumbled. Because he couldn't deal with this. This was supposed to be a new start -- safety. And yet whatever demons that haunted him had followed him even now, and the cost of Cam's life. Mal was cursed. He turned and fled. Away, away, anywhere but this beach. A broken man whose few footholds of what was good in the world seemed to be crumbling away no matter how much he grabbed for them, how much he tried to protect them. He just couldn't ---