Wheeling Gull Isle but i just can't believe him

So he was not dead yet. He did not know how to feel about this news. Was he doomed to suffer forever? Flashes of his life came back to him now, and he grimaced at the memories that he no longer wanted. His life was pain and nothing more.

"A meal," he said, his voice low, barely above a whisper. "Yes." And then he collapsed into the sand again, too tired to remain sitting. He closed his eyes, intent on waiting right here until food arrived, not caring about whoever it was that the shadow had called. Too bone-weary to care.