Wheeling Gull Isle Never does the dream come true.

The ghost had taken herself to ground.

Sickly; withering from the inside, she thought, and so she made a small cold bed for herself in some forgotten corner of the island, and she slept. Around her the world went forgotten. @Cobalt might have found her sometime during her long sleep, but if he had, she didn't know it.

Blue was sure for a time that she was dying. But she didn't. Her sickness ebbed like the tide, ever-present but lessening each day while her strength returned. One day she simply woke and found herself strong enough to wander the island, fish a bit for herself. She took a small meal and took in the scents that had come and gone since she'd last walked the sands.

A fresh one lurked among them; unfamiliar.

Blue trailed it until she found the grieving grey-furred man, a stranger cloaked in sorrow. The island seemed to do that to people. Even her. She sat some distance away, watching him without expectation for now. Maybe he only wanted to pay his respects and leave.