Wheeling Gull Isle and what exactly is a dream? and what exactly is a joke?

happiness seemed possible here.

all in consideration, it wasn't so bad, really. he had mal, and pretty ocean waves to look at. he had reconciled with his father, and even if he never saw khali again, he no longer resented the man. pitied him, more like. he'd faced his fears in the form of arcturus at the border.

he'd grown up, and become responsible for himself. for nearly his entire life, he'd felt a burden, like someone who needed taking care of. now, cam could look upon his reflection in a pool of water and see a man, rather than a boy. see the wolf that perhaps his mother had wanted him to be. kind, loyal, gentle.

he thought about her, walking along the beach. smiling down at the bits of shell and sea-rock he came across, each of them so different, so unique. he thought of her and all the many souls he'd encountered, from the kind to the cruel.

cam felt a twinge of a headache coming on, and turned so that he faced away from the biting wind, rather than staring into it. movement caught the corner of his eye and he turned—a glimpse of black fur—no, he was only catching himself in peripheral vision. the breeze picked up his unkempt pelt, mussing it further.

he broke into a playful trot, weaving in and out of the surf, where the waves broke white and foamy on the shore. then again—a shadow. this time he knew it wasn't himself, and glanced sideways again, only to see nothing. 

his skull pounded more and he shook his head, turning to head back to his den for some rest. some days here were worse than others; the sea air took a little getting used to. 

cam, came a whisper, near his ear. it was her, and he turned, at once alarmed and elated. mummy, he responded, having not heard that voice since he was a child; she had only ever spoken to him in dreams and then the dreams had faded altogether. for seasons she had been silent, and now, upon the island, he heard her once more.

the pain 'round his head tightened, vise-like—he lurched forward to press it into the warmth of her belly as he once had, long ago. a flash of orange; her eyes, oh, her warm eyes—

he was unconscious before his body hit the sand, and his heart stopped for good a few minutes later.

cam lay still, but he might have merely been sleeping, if one did not look carefully enough: 

eyes closed, lips curved in a sweet smile, a boy cradled in the invisible embrace of his mother.

Mal had felt that things had stalled. On the one hand, it was better than continuing the downward spiral, but that wasn't the progress he wanted. He still hadn't smiled. He still hadn't gotten Hua out of her funk. They were treading water. Mal still hadn't been very social, but he knew it was something he should fix. He needed to be a good example for his wolves.

But even though he wandered where he was fairly sure he was alone, apparently he wasn't, spotting a shadow along the shore. Cam, he called, fairly sure that was his friend snoozing by the sea. But he didn't move. Mal came closer, figuring maybe he was really that deep asleep, but it still seemed wrong. He just wanted to hope it wasn't the worst, but the worst lingered. The closer he got, the more he hesitated. But he went closer because he felt he had to -- if only to prove himself wrong. But Cam didn't move, and at a certain point it did become clear why. Darkness.

With an anguished yowl, quite audible to any nearby, Mal crumbled. Because he couldn't deal with this. This was supposed to be a new start -- safety. And yet whatever demons that haunted him had followed him even now, and the cost of Cam's life. Mal was cursed. He turned and fled. Away, away, anywhere but this beach. A broken man whose few footholds of what was good in the world seemed to be crumbling away no matter how much he grabbed for them, how much he tried to protect them. He just couldn't ---