Wheeling Gull Isle September

The fog was dispelling, the world was expanding and his family was no longer endless at sea. For long hours he sat upon a scrubby bluff with deep-set eyes staring out at the silhouette of mainland. In a trance he wonders about the kind who live there. The others- what they know, what they desire, and why they live at all? Do they hide in burrows among their great villages, looking to steal the island souls that should come out to them? Are they like the creatures of the sea, with fins and gills and scales? Do they have words and breath and tears?

The water is receding as the last warmth of summer wanes. Soon a bridge will form connecting their island with all that lay beyond.