Wheeling Gull Isle end;

evens she leaves, odds she stays: dinah will also be leaving sweetharbor

In the waking hours of the dawn, before the sun yawned across the isle for the last time Dinah would ever see it, she, too, would cross the landbridge in search of her mother.
In the time before she had chosen to depart, she felt the last of her daddy's breath in the lap of the sea. Her home. Her isle. Nothing remained of it. Silent, awry, cataclysmic; part of her wished to stay, to cling to what was left, but her mind sung and twisted and begged to leave.
God had turned away from her. Or, perhaps, she did so to him.
Whether or not @Simeon came with her, she holds him tightly and in his eyes she sees the beloved face. She screams into the pale of his chest with a pain that knew no forgiveness, no end; and she gathers what little she had.
Her flowers. The ribbed shell once belonging to @Judah, still pristine, save for a small chip. The sherbet conch once belonging to Daddy, now churned and eroded with sand. It was all she had left of them. She places them in the protective arms of a crude leaf-woven pouch, and she carries them with her. 
As she crosses the bridge and sets her bony feet upon the shore, she does not look back. Instead, she searches for her Mama; or, rather, a fractured version of her, face held in a tight, haggard emptiness. Dinah decides she will not cry in front of her.
In place of father sat the little girl with his face, and with no words exchanged, she would wait with the shattered remains and hold them together with shaking hands.

love does not delight in evil,
but rejoices with the truth.
it always protects, always trusts,
always hopes, always perseveres.