Wheeling Gull Isle I didn't drown; I couldn't seem to die

Oh, God. No pun intended.

She had heard enough from her mother about gods. About religion. She thought it best to turn tail and run now, lest she plunge herself into a similar cult. She wasn't interested; she wasn't keen on it at all.

But. . .Vesper.

And sleep, a dry, deep sleep. And so she followed.

My mother believed in gods, she replied briefly. Didn't tell us much about them, though. And, uh. . . Well, I'm just looking for my sister. Maybe she's here.

Her feet were dragging against the sand. Exhaustion was taking hold, her vision blurring. She followed Bartholomew's curly dark form as best she could, but her attention was waning fast.